


In Residence

by reyofdarkness (mitslits)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic, Mostly Fluff, frank discussions about periods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-07-12 21:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16003430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/reyofdarkness
Summary: Ben’s a single dad and Rey’s his neighbor who happens to get along well with his kid, but she doesn’t seem to like Ben very much - too bad his kid is bound and determined to set them up.





	1. Introductions Are the Hardest Part

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AttackoftheDarkCurses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AttackoftheDarkCurses/gifts).



> I know the prompt specified one kid, but I couldn't help but throw another one in there. I hope that's okay!

It’s not the sort of house Rey ever pictured herself living in. It’s elegant -- one could almost say stately -- but most importantly it reeks of money. Rey never expected to live in a place that looked like it was money. She stands in the doorway with her shabby duffel bag and even shabbier suitcase (it used to roll until one of the wheels broke off, and one of the zippers is stuck, but she loves it anyways) and looks onto the foyer. Because she has a foyer now. 

In truth, Rey has a good deal more than that. She has a kitchen, full-sized with an island, for all the cooking she won’t be doing. She has a pantry, practically a walk-in, for the one-person amount of food she’ll be buying. She has no less than two stories and three bedrooms, a sitting room, a dining room (separate from the kitchen!), and two and a half bathrooms for all the friends she won’t be making and all the guests she won’t be having over. In other words, Rey is living in excess. 

And she notices none of it as she stands in that doorway with her dilapidated luggage. All of her attention is fixed on the best feature, the singular reason she chose such a house in the first place: the blank, white walls. 

Money can do wondrous things. It can transform the idea that’s been forming in Rey’s mind since she started her degree into this wonderful house with its wonderfully blank, white walls. Rey doesn’t know how she’s lived this long without it. 

_ This isn’t forever, _ she reminds herself as she wanders through the house and trails her fingers over the drywall.  _ And it isn’t charity. You have to work for this.  _ It doesn’t seem like work to her, though. She’s already coming up with landscapes and murals and all sorts of things she wants to cover these walls with. 

Before university, Rey had never even heard of an artist’s residency. Now, here she is, in America of all places, for six whole months. All so she can paint a house. She’s never even dared to have a dream this good. 

Rey wanders through the whole place, taking mental notes on what she wants to paint where. The sitting room with all its windows and sunlight will be the perfect place for a desert, the loft a rainforest, the bedroom she’s going to claim as her own… she’s thinking galaxy. She makes a whole loop until she returns to the foyer where her things sit forgotten and turns to face the house, hands settled squarely on her hips.  _ Give me six months,  _ she thinks, chin raised, eyes blazing,  _ and I’ll turn this place into the world.  _

-

Rey has never been and will never be a morning person, which is why it’s absurd that she’s up before the sun. She grabs a banana from her sparsely stocked kitchen and plops herself down under the sitting room window, a tri-paned spread that Rey thinks could benefit from a reading nook. As it is, she is relegated to the hardwood, staring at the wall opposite as she starts in on her banana. 

Paint cans of yellow, brown, and dusty blue surround her; her arms are killing her from a day spent trekking back and forth from her car to the house loaded down with paint cans. She smirks as she drags down the peel as she remembers the looks she’d drawn from a few of her neighbors. This isn’t her kind of neighborhood, that much is clear. She’d stuck out like a sore thumb in her jeans and t-shirt, her ‘03 Civic equally out of place with its sun-damaged paint job. Nearly every other driveway had a flashy BMW or Bentley or something equally aristocratic. No, this isn’t Rey’s usual sort of place, but she likes it just fine. 

She studies the way the sun hits the walls, trying to project her imaginary landscape onto it just so. She wants the light to make the desert sands come alive. 

Her quiet morning is shattered by the sound of children shouting and the unmistakable rumbling of school bus. More shouting. Then a suspicious quiet before a high-pitched shriek, “No, it  _ isn’t! _ ” 

It might be best, Rey decides, to intervene. She pokes her head up over the windowsill to taking the scene before her. Two young girls, one who likes like she can’t be more than seven, the other a few years older, are standing in her neighbor’s driveway dressed in smart uniforms, messenger bags slung over their shoulders. And they’re shouting at each other. More intervention is required. 

Rey makes her way outside dressed in her pajamas and stands at the edge of her driveway. “Hey. What’s going on out here?” she asks. 

Immediately, their bickering ceases. The younger hides behind her sister’s legs, peering up at Rey with slightly fearful eyes. The elder merely regards her balefully, a bit of a curl to her lip. “We missed the bus,” she says. “Because Lanie spilled the milk, and  _ I  _ had to clean it up, so now we’re going to miss school too, and it’s all your fault.” This last she addresses to her sister. 

Lanie seems to forget all about Rey in favor of her righteous indignation. “Is not!” She turns to Rey with a pout. “Iofe’s the one who wouldn’t get out of bed, and she’s supposed to help me.” 

Rey looks back and forth between the two sisters, blinking. It suddenly strikes her that it’s been a long time since she’s been around children for any amount of time. She’s not entirely sure what to do. “Well, I don’t have much going on,” she says slowly. “I could probably drop you guys off. Where do you go?” She pats the hood of her car as if to prove that she does indeed have the vehicular means of doing so. 

“We’re not supposed to go in the car with strangers,” Lanie says, shrinking back behind Iofe’s legs.

“Oh shut up, Lanie,” Iofe says with a roll of her eyes. She shakes her head at Rey as if to say “kids, right?” and Rey has to suppress a smile. “She’s not a stranger, she’s our  _ neighbor.  _ Besides, Dad will kill us if he finds out we missed school.” So saying, she strides across the strip of lawn dividing them and walks up to Rey, sticking her hand out. “I’m Iofe, by the way.”  

Rey accepts, still trying to suppress her smile. “Rey.” 

Iofe swings around to give Lanie a triumphant look. “See? She’s not a stranger anymore. So come on.” She beckons her over, keeps beckoning until Lanie hesitantly steps onto the lawn and joins her. 

“One sec, I just need to grab my keys.” Rey ducks inside just long enough to scoop them off the bar counter before rejoining her two new charges outside. She notices Iofe’s jaw drop open a little as she unlocks the car. “What?” she asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You’re going to drive us to school in your pajamas?” Iofe asks, exchanging a delighted look with Lanie. 

Rey glances down at her attire -- a half-cropped sweatshirt and black shorts -- before shrugging. “They’re comfortable. Now, are we going or what?” She drops into the driver’s seat as Lanie scrambles into the back. Iofe, however, lingers, chewing at her lip. “What is it now?” Rey sighs. 

“Can I sit in the passenger seat?” she blurts. She runs her hands restlessly along the strap of her messenger bag and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “It’s just that Dad never lets me, even though I’m twelve whole years old.” 

Rey’s eyebrows twitch upwards. She hasn’t met any of her neighbors yet, but surely whoever “dad” is won’t mind too much if she bends the rules this once. So thinking, she leans across and shoves the passenger-side door open. “Have at it.” 

Iofe’s eyes brighten instantly, and she dashes around to take her place in the front. “Best neighbor ever,” she declares, turning a beaming smile on Rey. 

Is that all it takes to please kids these days? Rey never knew it was so easy. “Where are we heading?” she asks, already pulling out her phone and opening up her GPS. 

“Harker,” Iofe answers. 

Rey plugs in the location and pulls out, following the broad green line. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel and listens to the tinny voice give her instructions. The silence is awkward, or at least she thinks it is. She’s not sure kids have the same definition of awkward. Iofe shifts in her seat. Lanie sniffles. Rey keeps drumming.

After another block or two, she clears her throat and jerks her chin towards the glovebox. “There’re some CDs in there if you guys want to listen to some music. I don’t usually use the radio. Too many ads.”

“Ads suck,” Iofe says, reaching forward to pop open the glovebox and shuffle through the CD cases. 

From the backseat, Lanie gasps. “Iofe!” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Iofe mumbles, not sounding at all sorry. “Ads stink.” 

Thankfully, this seems to placate Lanie, as she settles back into her seat without another word. This is fortunate because Rey has no idea what she’d do if they got into another fight. 

The GPS tells her to turn left. Rey makes a left. 

“Queen is a band?” Iofe asks, holding up one of the CDs. “I thought it was just a… you know, a word.”  

Rey glances over at her, eyebrows arched. “You’ve never heard Queen? How can you have never even heard of Queen?”

Iofe shrugs, and in the rearview mirror, Rey can see Lanie doing the same. 

“Well, you kids are about to get some culture.” Rey holds her hand out for the CD, and Iofe obediently hands it over. Keeping her eyes mostly on the road, Rey sticks the CD in and turns it up just loud enough to be heard without overpowering her GPS. 

The first few lines of Bohemian Rhapsody begin to fill the car. Rey hums along, keeping time with the shifting beat on her steering wheel. Iofe and Lanie perk up a little bit as the drums kick in, but their excitement fades a little when the piano melody continues. Rey suppresses her smirk until the band belts out “THUNDERBOLTS AND LIGHTNING” and Lanie giggles. 

“Is it okay to turn it up?” Iofe asks, and, when Rey nods her permission, she cranks the dial up until Rey has to rely on her eyes to determine where the GPS wants her to go. 

“So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?” Rey sings, unable to help herself. The song is infectious. She catches Lanie’s gaze in the rearview, pulls a face, and continues, “So you think you can love me and leave me to diiiie?!” and is rewarded with another giggle. 

Iofe air guitars as well as she can from her seat-belted position.

“Now you’re getting it,” Rey says, almost missing her next turn. She resolves her focus on the road but is well aware of both girls continuing to jam out.

There’s a chorus of disappointed “awws” when the song fades out, but the thumping bass of “Another One Bites the Dust” starts up almost immediately. By the time they reach the school, “Fat Bottomed Girls” is pumping through the speakers. Iofe and Lanie break into peals of laughter as Rey sings passionately along about blue-eyed floozies and naughty nannies. She pulls into the drop-off line just as the chorus hits. 

“Okay, kiddos, this is the end of the line. Go have fun. Learn.” Rey gestures to the school outside. It’s a massive, modern-looking edifice, and she finds herself a little intimidated and a lot glad she’s not the one who has to attend. 

Iofe snorts as she gathers up her bag. “Well, we can’t really do both. You’re way more fun than school.” 

“I’m flattered, but I’m still making you go,” Rey says with a shooing motion. 

Iofe sighs. “It was worth a try.” She hops out of the car and sends “Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin’ world go round” spilling into the morning air.

Rey flicks her gaze up to the rearview to check on Lanie. “You good back there?” Even as she asks, Lanie cranks open the door and tugs her messenger back over. 

“Yup!” she says brightly. “Thank you, Mrs. Rey!” 

Rey doesn’t get a chance to correct her before she’s running to catch up with her sister, but it doesn’t really matter. They’re cute kids, but she probably won’t be seeing much more of them. Just as she’s about to drive off, a lively women (too lively for how early it is, Rey thinks) hurries toward her. 

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” She waves frantically as if she’s afraid Rey is going to ignore her and race off. 

Instead, Rey rolls down her window and turns down the radio -- that’s still blasting Fat Bottomed Girls. 

The woman bends down to see her better, giving her a brilliant smile that seems fantastically disingenuous. “Good morning! I was wondering if you could please pull off to the side, just for a second. Just over there.” She waves towards a section of the lot that looks like it’s more for longer-term parking instead of the drive-through line. 

“Um. Sure.” Baffled, Rey waits for the woman to step back so she can navigate her car to the indicated space. Her shabby Civic seems even shabbier here. Rey gets the distinct impression that she’s more than out of her depth; she’s been dropped in the middle of the ocean. What kind of teachers are these that they can afford Porsches? She drums her fingernails along the steering wheel, subtle nervous, as she waits for the woman to return. 

Then suddenly, she’s there, with her primped hair and carefully made-up face and beaming, gleaming smile that would have a toothpaste commercial-sparkle if it could. “Oh, thank you so much for pulling off. Was that Iofe and Lanie Solo I saw with you?” 

“Yes,” Rey says hesitantly. “Ma’am,” she hastily tacks on afterwards. 

“Ms. Phasma,” she says by way of introduction. She cocks her head to one side. “I wasn’t aware Mr. Solo had a new wife.” 

“If he did, he wouldn’t be Solo,” Rey blurts. She fully does not intend to, but this lady makes her nervous. It doesn’t help when her only response to Rey’s so-called joke is a slight tightening around the eyes, a slight widening of the smile. Like she’s a shark about to consume her prey. “But actually we’re not married. I’m just a neighbor helping out. Iofe and Lanie missed the bus this morning, so I thought I could drop them off.” 

Phasma nods once, her blue eyes like chips of ice. “How nice of you! Far be it from me to discourage such behavior, but I do have to ask that if you do this again… We have a certain decorum, you might say, that we like to maintain here at Harker. I’m sure you understand.” 

Rey doesn’t understand. At all. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t?” She’s a grown woman with a college degree and her own place, so why does this woman make her feel like she’s no better than a child that needs scolding? Maybe it’s the height. She’s desperately tall and wearing heels to boot. Rey can’t quite convince herself that’s the reason. 

“Perhaps I’ll be a little clearer.” Phasma’s smile stays perfectly in place, but her eyes harden. “We believe that we should present ourselves as role models in front of the children. They’re impressionable, as I’m sure you know, and we like to set a good example. I’m afraid your outfit and the… music… you were playing is not up to our usual standards.” 

Rey blinks at her. Blinks down at her outfit. And the radio. And back at the woman. “But it’s Queen,” she says lamely. 

Phasma’s smile stretches an inch wider, and Rey tightens her grip on the steering wheel. 

“It won’t happen again,” she says, her voice fainter than she would like. 

“I’m so glad to hear that!” Phasma finally steps away from the car with a polite nod. “Have a wonderful day.” Then she’s off with a wave, presumably to right some other wrong in the world. 

Rey slumps back into her seat with a long exhale and peels her fingers off the steering wheel one by one. She pulls out of the parking lot and doesn’t look back. 

-

Her hair is up in a messy bun with a paintbrush stuck through it. Another brush is stuck behind her ear. A third is in her hand, and it’s this one she’s using to actually paint with. Pale blue streaks her cheeks, and legs, and clothes as she paints swaths of the desert sky. She’s perched on the top rung of the ladder to do the trim around the ceiling when the doorbell rings. 

“Shit.” Rey sticks her brush between her teeth and starts climbing down, careful not to jostle the ladder too much and disturb the precariously perched can of paint. The doorbell rings again, quickly followed by a series of knocks. “One second!” she calls around the brush in her teeth. She sets it on one of the rungs and hurries towards the door. She reaches for the knob, realizing at the last second that her thumb is coated in blue. She smears it off on the exposed skin of her thigh before swinging the door open. “Hi, I-” Her greeting dies in her throat.  _ Oh, hel _ -lo.

The man standing on her doorstep looks like he could have stepped straight off a movie set. His black hair is curled stylishly, his figure impressively displayed in a tailored suit. Dark eyes regard her from a pale face speckled with freckles. He looks like the perfect gentleman. Until he opens his mouth. “Are you Rey?” 

His tone is harsh enough that it shocks Rey’s tongue into clumsiness. “Yeah, that’s me. Rey. I would shake your hand, it’s just… there’s paint?” She holds up her hand and waggles her blue thumb at him. 

He barely seems to notice her stuttered introduction, and he certainly doesn’t try to take her hand. “Do you want to explain why I got a call from my daughters’ school today asking about my neighbor and her ‘disruptive tendencies?’” 

For a second, all Rey can do is stare him, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed. The dots are slow to connect. This is dad. This is the dad. Lanie’s and Iofe’s. As soon as that clicks into place, Rey goes on the defensive. “It’s not my fault that Phasma lady had a ginormous stick up her ass,” she says. 

His eyes narrow. 

“Look, I was honestly just trying to help. Your kids missed the bus. I dropped them off. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.” She crosses her arms over her chest, suddenly acutely aware that she’s still in barely nothing. She’d never bothered changing out of her pajamas.  Not that he’s doing anything other than glare at her. 

“Thanks,” he says, though he sounds anything but grateful. “Next time, just have them call me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, apparently I need to go have a talk with my children about getting into cars with strangers.” 

Rey rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you have fun with that.” 

He steps off her porch, pausing on the last stair. “I’m Ben Solo, by the way. Welcome to the neighborhood.” Then he’s striding off without a glance backward, leaving Rey to glare at his back until he disappears into his house. 

Rey steps back into her own and fights the childish urge to slam the door shut. Why are so many things here so frustrating? With a huff, she stomps back to her ladder and plucks up her paintbrush, taking out her emotions on the wall in long, angry strokes. It doesn’t take long for her to get into a groove and start to calm. When she does, she laughs at herself a little. This doesn’t have to be that hard, she tells herself. She just has to paint and keep to herself. Totally doable. She never needs to see Ben Solo again. 


	2. Nerf or Nothin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time, but I promise the next one will be longer! Decided to go for a more vignette style on this one so the chapter lengths might vary a bit.

Here’s the thing. Rey fully intends on sticking to her plan of avoiding Ben Solo and his better-than-you attitude for the rest of her life. It’s just that his kids seem to have other plans. 

The desert is coming along nicely. She has sweeping dunes, a clear, robins-egg sky, and the suggestion of tracks soon to be sand-swept. There’s still quite  a bit to be done: she needs a sun, shading, possibly a caravan of shadowy figures in the distance. Rey steps back to survey her work. She’ll miss this room when she’s done with it. It feels open with the large window overlooking the lawn and the cheery sunlight that spills in all the way until evening. A shame, but she has the whole rest of the house to fall in love with.

Then there’s a knock at her door. Rey’s head swivels to face it, eyes wary. She’s not expecting anyone. (How could she be? The only people she’s even talked to are the Solos and that horrible woman, Phantasm, or whatever her name was.) So it is with some small measure of trepidation that Rey opens her door -- to find two young faces upturned towards her. 

“We’re bored,” Lanie says by way of greeting. 

“So bored,” Iofe interjects. 

Lanie bounces on the soles of her feet, reminding Rey that kids are endless wells of energy. “Will you play with us?” 

“Me?” she asks, dumbfounded. 

Iofe nods sagely. “Dad’s too busy, so we thought we’d ask you. Since you’re cool and all.” 

“Uh…” Rey casts a glance at Ben’s house. For some reason, she doesn’t think he’d take kindly to her inviting his kids in. “I’m not sure your dad would be okay with you guys being over here,” she says with a helpless shrug. 

That does nothing to deter them. “Then let’s do something outside,” Iofe suggests. Lanie chimes in with enthusiastic agreement. 

Rey surveys their yards. There’s no fences surrounding them; the only thing that marks the Solos’ from hers is the fact that Ben’s lawn is meticulously trimmed whereas hers has grass that’s getting a little long and a few weeds here and there. They’re spacious, lush. In other words, the perfect playground. Even Rey has to admit it’s a splendid afternoon. Spending a few hours outside might be good for her anyways, shut up as she has been these past couple days. 

An idea strikes her then and a smirk spills onto her face. “How would you two feel about a water gun fight?” 

Iofe and Lanie exchange glances of barely-suppressed delight. “Do you have some?” Iofe asks.

“I’ve only got one,” Rey cautions, “so we’d have to share it.”

“That’s okay,” Iofe says instantly. “We’re good at sharing.” 

“Great at sharing,” Lanie chimes in, bouncing on her toes. 

Rey puts her hand to her chin, pretending to consider. Iofe’s and Lanie’s enthusiasm is practically palpable as she draws out the moment, eyes narrowing. Just as their faces begin to fall, Rey snaps her fingers. “Okay, then. To war!” She spins around and marches back into the house, leaving the two girls jostling each other on the doorstep and arguing about who gets to use the gun first.  _ Good at sharing,  _ Rey thinks with a roll of her eyes. 

It doesn’t take her long to sort through her meager belongings and come up with the Nerf Supersoaker she’d purchased when she first got there. It’s supposed to be a tool; she fully intends on loading it up with paint and spraying the aurora borealis on her arctic wall, but for today she supposes it can be the toy it’s meant to be. She fills it up in the sink, takes an experimental shot at the drain, and nods with satisfaction when everything works as it’s meant to. 

Rey comes back to the doorway, settling the butt of the gun on her hip, barrel pointed at the sky. “You girls ready to get supersoaked?”  

Lanie takes off with a squeal, leaping off the porch and abandoning Iofe to the powerful jet of the Nerf supersoaker. 

“Oh, crap!” Iofe is gone before Rey can admonish her for her language. She takes off after Lanie, screaming at her sister about how dare she leave her behind. 

Rey pumps the barrel and follows them into the yard at a more sedate pace. Her legs are longer, she reminds herself. She has every advantage here. 

The kids do a decent job at hiding given the general lack of shrubbery between the two lawns, but every now and then, Rey gets a glimpse of yellow shirt or denim jeans and takes careful aim. She’s a good shot; nearly every time she pulls the trigger, a squeal follows. Soon, Lanie and Iofe begin to look a bit patchy, wet spots decorating their outfits. Neither of them seem to care, but Rey starts to wonder if maybe she should have suggested swimsuits before engaging in aqueous warfare. Rey shrugs that off, though. Too late now. 

Rey doesn’t realize how much noise they’re making until she chases the girls all the way to Ben’s porch. Lanie scrambles up and squeezes herself through the railing while Iofe makes for the more logical steps. Rey has just trained the supersoaker on what she can see of Lanie through the railing when the Solos’ door swings open and Ben steps out with a half-bemused, half-irritated look on his face. 

Rey spots an opportunity. Rey takes the opportunity. 

“What is going on out he-” Ben starts to ask. He gets a face full of water for his troubles. 

Iofe and Lanie collapse into peals of laughter as Ben pushes water-logged locks from his face, burning eyes zeroing in on Rey. 

Rey chokes back her own laughter and slaps an apologetic smile on her face as she lowers the Nerf gun. “Sorry about that,” she says, the barely-suppressed mirth dampening the apology. “I was aiming for a kid.” 

“Iofe. Lanie,” Ben says, though his gaze doesn’t move from Rey. “Inside, now, both of you. And change out of those wet clothes.” 

Sensing their father’s displeasure, their laughter peters out, and the girls slink off obediently. Iofe catches Rey’s eye as she goes and shrugs as if to say “it was fun while it lasted.” 

Rey gives her a little salute, and Ben’s gaze hardens. Left alone with a still-dripping Ben, Rey finds herself suddenly awkward and a little regretful about pegging him with her water gun. “I, uh, hope that isn’t dry-clean only,” she ventures with a nod towards his outfit. It looks like a fairly nice shirt. Soaked now, of course. Supersoaked. 

“I thought I’d made it clear I wanted you to stay away from my kids,” Ben says, ignoring her. “If I didn’t, I’m saying it now: I think you’re a bad influence, and I don’t want you spending time with them.” 

Rey bristles. Bad influence? Where does he get that idea? “It’s not my fault your kids came to me because you were too busy to play with them,” she snaps, overly defensive. “Bad influence” has her rattled. 

Ben’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything, just turns sharply on his heel and strides back into his house. He shuts the door behind him instead of slamming it like a perfectly rational adult, but that only serves to infuriate Rey further. 

Fuming, she stomps back to her own house.  _ Wanker. Bad influence, ha! He’s the one going around griping at innocent neighbors for keeping his kids entertained.  _ Rey snorts as she empties the water gun of what little water is left and leaves it out to dry.

She returns to her desert and tries to calm herself with long strokes of yellow and blue. In reality, she winds up thinking very hard about not thinking about Ben Solo or his kids.  


	3. Is it Babysitting if They're Not Babies?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This includes the scene that kicked off this entire fic. Two words: Easy Cheese.

Rey is coming to associate knocks on her door with portents of disaster. She almost laughs when she opens it to find Ben standing there, clearly unhappy, his two girls chasing each other around her porch. “Well, this is a surprise,” she says, leaning one hip against the doorframe and folding her arms over her chest. 

Ben heaves a long sigh, and Rey can see how much effort it takes for him to force the words out. “My usual babysitter canceled,” he grits out, “and I can’t miss this meeting.” 

“So you thought you’d risk the bad influence?” Rey asks, lifting her chin and attempting not to smile. It would be immature to laugh in the face of his obvious misery. The corners of her mouth twitch, though, and she’s sure he notices. 

“Bad influence or not, my sitter isn’t here, and for some inexplicable reason, my kids like you, so, yes, here I am. Laugh away, but please, can you watch them? It will only be for a couple hours, and I’ll pay you, of course.” 

He really must be desperate if he’s begging. Rey takes pity on the poor man, inclining her head. “Yeah, sure, I’m sure I can keep them from burning the house down in a couple hours. I’ll feed them dinner and everything.” 

Ben’s shoulders sag in relief. “Thank you,” he says, and he sounds so sincere Rey almost feels bad about mocking him. Almost. 

Iofe and Lanie turn to Ben when he clears his throat. “The two of you are going to behave yourselves, right?” he asks and gets twin nods in reply. “Then I guess that’s settled,” Ben mutters. “I’ll be back by eight.” 

“We’ll be here,” Rey says with a jaunty little wave. 

Ben seems reluctant to leave, glancing back over his shoulder several times on his way to his car. 

Lanie and Iofe wave every time he turns, and eventually he makes it into his car and out of his driveway. The three of them watch as he recedes into the distance, and, once he’s gone, the two girls turn to Rey expectantly. 

It is at that moment Rey realizes she has no idea how to babysit. “Okay,” she says, clapping her hands once and rubbing them together. She will bluff her way through this. It’ll be fine. “You guys can come on in.”

No sooner are the words out of her mouth than Iofe and Lanie are pushing past her, eager to explore this new location. Rey follows after them, shutting the door and wondering what she’s gotten herself into. The two girls seem almost instantly confused. They barrel into the living room and come to a complete stop, glancing around with furrowed brows. 

Iofe spins to face Rey as she steps into the room. “How come you don’t have a couch?” she asks. 

“Or a T.V.?” Lanie interjects. 

“Or, like… any furniture?” Iofe gestures to the room, which is devoid of everything now that she’s moved her painting supplies upstairs. 

“It’s easier to paint if there’s nothing in my way,” Rey says, tilting her head towards the desert landscape sprawling over the walls. 

Lanie’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “You’re allowed to color on the  _ walls? _ ” 

Laughing, Rey nods. “Yeah, actually, I’m supposed to.” An idea strikes her then, and she smiles slyly. “Do you two want to try?” 

Iofe nods eagerly, but Lanie hangs back. “Are you sure we won’t get in trouble?” she asks, sounding skeptical. 

Rey holds one hand up and crosses her heart with the other. “I swear, no one will get in trouble. It’ll be our secret.” She throws in a wink for good measure. 

That seems to smooth over any lingering hesitation. Lanie starts bouncing on her toes. “Okay, then, I wanna do it!” 

“Upstairs,” Rey says. She takes the lead, Iofe and Lanie falling into step behind her as she makes her way to the second floor. “I’m starting on the galaxy. You two are going to get to help me paint space.” 

“Awesome!” Iofe takes the steps two at a time in her eagerness. “We’ve been learning about stars in science class. Did you know there are different colored ones?” Before Rey can respond, she continues. “Yeah, there are like yellow, and red, and blue and stuff. Are you going to have a bunch of different colored stars?” 

Rey ends up the last to make it up the stairs, the kids way faster than she expects them to be. “Uh, I can,” she says as she joins them on the landing. 

“So cool,” Iofe squeals.  

Rey’s bedroom is as sparse as the rest of the house; a mattress with navy blue sheets adorns the floor and a duffle bag shoved into one corner is all the decoration she’s allowed herself. The rest of the room is cluttered with painting supplies. A ladder waits to help her get the trim, cans of paint are stacked one on top of another, and brushes of various sizes are scattered about haphazardly. The walls are currently blank. She’d been planning to start that afternoon. 

Under the face of so much unblemishment, Lanie seems to wilt again. “Mrs. Rey-” 

“Miss Rey,” Iofe corrects. 

Lanie pauses to glare at her sister before continuing. “Miss Rey, are you really, really sure this is okay?” 

“I’m really, really sure,” Rey says, already working on cracking open one of the paint cans. “But I can go first to prove it, if you want.” 

Lanie nods, and even Iofe seems relieved at the prospect. 

Rey pours some paint into a roller pan and pushes it over towards the wall. “So what we’re going to do,” she says, glancing at them over her shoulder, “is slap our handprints on the wall. That way they’ll disappear when I paint over them, but the three of us will know they’re there.” She gives them a reassuring wink before sticking her hand into the obsidian-black paint. 

Lanie and Iofe hold their breath as Rey straightens and presses her hand to the wall as if they expect someone to come in and bust her. 

But Rey peels her hand away and leaves a blackened print with no consequences. “See?” She waggles charcoal fingers at them. “It’s fine.” 

Now thoroughly convinced, Iofe practically skips over the tray. Rey hurries over to make sure she doesn’t knock it over or get paint everywhere, and soon Iofe’s handprint is on the wall a bit below Rey’s. 

“Do you want to sign it?” Rey asks, picking up a long, thin brush in her clean hand. 

“The wall?” Iofe asks. 

Rey nods. “That’s your hand up there. It’s art. And artists sign their work.” So saying, Rey dips her brush into the paint and signs her own name next to her handprint with a flourish. 

Iofe rolls her eyes but takes the brush when Rey offers it to her. “It’s not art, though,” she says. “It’s just a handprint.” 

Rey waves away her protestations. “Not art. Who’s the artist here?” 

Iofe pauses halfway through her name, head tilted. “You?” she asks. 

“Exactly. I’m the artist, and I say it’s art, so it’s art.” Rey nods decisively as if that settles the matter. 

Snorting, Iofe rounds off her ‘e’ and sets the brush back in the tray. “Okay, okay. I signed it.” She steps back and pokes Lanie. “Your turn.”

There’s no trace of Lanie’s earlier hesitation as she kneels by the tray and coats her hand in paint. Rey helps guide her to the wall without getting paint everywhere, and soon her print is up there as close to Iofe’s as it can be given their differences in height. She turns to Rey, eyes shining. “Do I get to sign it too?” 

“Of course.” Rey hands her the paintbrush. 

It takes a bit more effort to Lanie to scribe her name, the letters uneven and vastly different sizes, her brow furrowed in concentration the whole time. Eventually, though, she steps back with a decisive nod. “Done,” she declares. 

“Okay, we can admire our handiwork after you two have washed your hands,” Rey says, already starting to usher them towards the bathroom. She manages to navigate them successfully into the bathroom without getting paint anywhere. 

The bathroom isn’t quite as lucky. Iofe reaches for the sink handle without thinking about it, leaving black streaks in her wake, and Lanie puts her hand on the counter once to steady herself. She looks up at Rey when she notices, terrified, but Rey shakes her head before she has a chance to apologize. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Rey says. “A little nail polish remover and that’ll come right off.” 

Once the kids are cleaned up, Rey takes them back into the bedroom to survey their handiwork. Rey stands, hands on hips, staring at their three handprints, black dots on an otherwise unblemished canvas. “Hmm. I don’t think I even have to do anything else. This looks perfect as it is, yeah?” 

“You said it would be a secret!” Lanie says with a vigorous shake of her head. 

Iofe nods. “Lanie has a point. It can’t be a secret handprint if everyone can see it.” 

Sighing in mock disappointment, Rey lets her hands fall. “You’re right, you’re right. Guess that means I’ll have to turn this room into a galaxy after all.” 

They lapse back into silence, Rey starting at the wall, Iofe picking at a fleck of black on the heel of one hand, Lanie rocking back and forth on her heels. The quiet is broken by the rumbling of a stomach: Iofe’s, as it turns out. 

Rey presses her lips together to hide a smile. “Guess it’s dinnertime, huh?” She starts a mental inventory of what she has that she actually knows how to cook. It’s not a lot; she’s never been much of a chef. Even so, she’s sure she’ll have  _ something  _ kids will want to eat. 

Iofe and Lanie beat Rey down to the kitchen by a wide margin, the two of them practically running, Rey taking the stairs at a pace that won’t have her tripping and falling. By the time she joins them, Iofe already has her pantry door open and is digging around. Clearly, Rey didn’t have to worry about finding them food they’d like; they seem to have that well in hand. 

“Oh. My. God.” Iofe pulls her head out of the pantry with an almost rapturous expression on her face. She holds a thin metal can up reverently. “You have Easy Cheese.” 

Surprised that such a paltry thing has caused such a reaction, Rey nods once. “I do,” she says, almost hesitantly. Is there something she’s missing, some secret sacredness to Easy Cheese that has gone hitherto undiscovered? 

Apparently so because one look at Lanie tells Rey that she’s just as awestruck as her sister. 

“Dad never lets us eat this stuff,” Iofe says. “Can we have some? Please? I really wanna know what it tastes like.” 

“Wait.” Rey glances back and forth between the two. “You’ve never tried it?” 

Both of them shake their heads, and, well, that explains everything. The first taste of overly-processed, 0%-cheese cheese is indeed an experience.

Maybe, Rey thinks, she shouldn’t let them eat things Ben doesn’t approve of, but it’s Easy Cheese. It’s harmless. “You can absolutely try some,” she says. 

“Yessss.” Iofe sets the can on the counter and turns back to the pantry, digging around again. 

Rey takes the can and gives it a couple good shakes as she asks, “What are you looking for?” 

Iofe doesn’t stop her exploration. “I don’t know, crackers or something. For the Easy Cheese.” 

Rey scoffs before she can stop herself. The sound has Iofe turning to regard her with furrowed brow. “Sorry,” she says. “But you know you don’t actually need to put Easy Cheese  _ on  _ anything, right?” 

The baffled look Iofe and Lanie share tell Rey that they do not, in fact, know this. Their education in junk food eating is about to begin. Rey pops the cap off the can and smirks. “I find Easy Cheese is best if it’s undiluted.” So saying, she tilts her head back, positions the nozzle over her gaping jaw, and sprays the not-actually-cheese directly into her mouth. When she’s taken a good, long shot, she swipes her tongue over her lips. “Yum.” She tilts the nozzle in their direction, one eyebrow raised questioningly. 

Iofe immediately throws her head back, mouth wide. 

Rey gives her a generous pull, watching in amusement as Iofe registers the taste. 

Her expression changes from curious to appreciative, and she makes an exaggerated “mmm” sound. 

“Good?” Rey asks, though she’s pretty sure what the answer will be. 

Mouth full, Iofe flashes her a thumbs up. 

Lanie crowds up next to Rey after that. “I want some too,” she says. 

Rey gives the can another shake. “Open up.” She waits until Lanie obeys before giving her an equally generous portion. 

Her reaction is much the same as her sister’s. “I want some more,” she says before she’s even finished her first mouthful. 

Laughing, Rey sets the can on the counter. “Maybe after we’ve had actual dinner,” she says. “I don’t want to completely ruin your appetites.” Ignoring the chorus of disappointed awwws, she turns her attention to the pantry. “Okay, I have instant ramen, hot dogs, boxed mac ‘n cheese… what are you two in the mood for?” 

-

Ben shows up right at eight, and Rey has to admit, she’s a little relieved. She hadn’t realized just how much nothing there is to do in her house, so she’d resorted to letting Lanie and Iofe jump around on her mattress, another thing they claimed they never got to do at home. Ben, it seemed, was trying to raise them like proper young ladies. 

Even as Rey opens the door, she can hear the kids registering that their dad is back. 

“Hey,” Ben says, and there’s something different about him. He looks more relaxed, his tie half-undone, one hand stuck in his pocket, his shoulders not as straight-set as they usually are. 

“Hey,” Rey says back. “I think the kids are coming.” 

The words are barely out of her mouth when they hear footsteps pounding down the steps and girlish laughter. “Daddy!” 

Rey steps aside just in time -- Lanie launches herself at her father as soon as she’s close enough. 

Ben staggers back a step as she cannons into his legs, but he’s smiling, and Rey realizes that she’s never seen that before. It transforms his face, makes him much more pleasant to look at. 

_ Handsome,  _ she thinks, unbidden, and immediately shoves that thought down. She reminds herself he’s an asshole even as he hoists Lanie into his arms. 

“Hey, angel.” He supports her on one hip, his other hand reaching out to smooth over Iofe’s hair as she gives him a one-armed hug. “What did you two do with Miss Rey?” 

Lanie drops her voice to what’s supposed to be a whisper but is perfectly audible to even Rey, who’s standing a few feet away. “We put our hands in the walls.” 

Ben’s eyebrows inch upwards. “You did? Then how come I can still see them?” he asks, lifting her hand to his mouth and blowing a raspberry against her fingers. 

“Not like that,” Lanie giggles, tugging her hand away. She wraps it around his neck instead and leans her head on his shoulder. “We painted them in.” 

Iofe casts her eyes toward the ceiling. “You’re awful at keeping secrets, Lane.” 

Lanie peers out at her sister from under Ben’s hair and sticks her tongue out at her. 

Looking thoroughly confused, Ben glances towards Rey for an explanation. 

“I let them put their handprints on the wall upstairs,” she says, taking pity on him. “Since I’m going to be painting over it anyways.” 

Iofe seizes Ben’s free hand and bounces on her toes. “You should do it too, dad!” 

“Yeah,” Lanie chimes in, lifting her head. “That way you can’t tell the secret either.” 

Ben clears his throat. “I don’t know if Miss Rey would really be okay with-” 

“It’d be okay, right, Rey?” Iofe asks, turning pleading eyes to Rey. 

Really, how is she supposed to say no with that sort of persuasion? “I don’t see why not,” she says with a shrug. 

Seeming less than amused that Rey has dragged him into this, Ben sets Lanie back down and follows after them up the stairs. “After this, we’re going home,” he says, loud enough for Rey to hear. 

_ Still an asshole,  _ Rey assures herself. Less of one, maybe, but that doesn’t mean she’s forgiven him for his prickishness. She steps into her room to find Ben glancing around with a critical eye before his gaze lands on their cluster of handprints. 

“So I just… paint my hand and put it on the wall?” he asks, eyeing the tray still filled with black. “And that’s okay?” 

Rey has to stifle a laugh. Apparently, reticence to break the rules runs in the family. “It’s fine, I promise,” she says. 

Dubiously, Ben crouches down to coat his hand in paint. He straightens, staring at the vast expanse of wall before him. “Just anywhere?” 

“You should put it next to Rey’s,” Iofe suggests. “The grown-ups should be together.” 

Rey bites her lip at Iofe’s phrasing, but Ben doesn’t bat an eye. He’s probably used to his children’s anachronisms, she thinks. 

Ben hesitates only a second more before stepping forward and pressing his hand to the wall close to Rey’s imprint. “I’m not signing this,” he warns before stepping back. His print dwarfs Rey’s. 

“That’s fine, you don’t have to,” she assures him. “There’s a bathroom right next door so you can wash up. Meet you with the kids downstairs?” She waits until he acknowledges her with a nod before shepherding Iofe and Lanie back downstairs. 

It isn’t long before Ben joins them, by which time Lanie is slumped against the door, eyes half-closed. He opens his mouth, presumably to say something, when something catches his gaze. He turns to face the can of Easy Cheese, disgust plain on his face. “What is that?” 

“Delicious,” Iofe chimes in before Rey has the chance to speak. “Rey let us have some. You should get some for us, dad, please, please, please.” 

Ben squeezes his eyes shut for a minute and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tell me that wasn’t dinner,” he mutters, ignoring his daughter’s pleas. 

Rey offers him a sheepish smile. “It was only part of dinner?”

Sighing, Ben cuts off Iofe’s continued pleading with a quiet, “Iofe, why don’t you take your sister home? I’ll be over there in a second.” 

Iofe glances between him, Rey, and the Easy Cheese before nodding and taking Lanie’s hand. “C’mon, Lanie, let’s go.” 

Lanie follows after her without complaint, the two of them starting down the drive and across the lawn. 

Rey turns to Ben expectantly, completely ready to be read the riot act about the dangers and unhealthiness of processed cheese. She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. She’ll defend her junk food habit to the death. 

“Rey.” Ben clears his throat, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and shoves his hands in his pockets. Almost immediately, he pulls one back out to rub the back of his neck. “Are you… okay?” 

The question catches Rey so entirely off-guard, her eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “I’m fine,” she replies. “Why shouldn’t I be?” She quickly flips back through their incredibly brief conversations, but she can’t think of anything she might have said or done to trigger any concern on his behalf. It kind of surprises her that Ben is capable of being concerned for her, if she’s being honest. 

Ben gestures to the house around them. “I guess I’m just wondering why did you buy this house if you couldn’t afford furniture? Or real food?” 

Rey stares at him for a moment, blinking, before she bursts into laughter. It’s the laughter of someone whose expectations have been so thoroughly overturned that they just can’t help themselves. 

Ben furrows his brow, looking a touch offended. “What?” he asks. “What’s so funny?” 

“I’m sorry,” Ray gasps. “I’m sorry, it’s just-” She breaks off into another round of laughter, and it takes a little while before she can get herself under she control. She presses her hand over her mouth for a second, eyes fixed on the ceiling as she struggles to remember how to breathe. Eventually, she lets her hand drop and lets out her breath in one, long, controlled stream. “I didn’t buy this house. I could never in a million years afford this house.” 

Now thoroughly confused, Ben’s jaw works at nothing for a moment before he manages to ask, “Then what are you doing here?” 

“Painting,” Rey says, her eyes still gleaming with amusement. “I’m an artist in residence.” 

Ben arches one eyebrow. “Meaning…?” 

“Meaning someone bought this house and is using it as an art project.” Rey warms to her explanation; she hasn’t had anyone to talk to about her art for a while, and she’s missed it. “I stay here for six months, paint it up, and then hold an exhibit at the end for the Organa Art Foundation -- that’s the agency sponsoring me -- and then someone else moves in after me and does their own project. It’s really-” She’s interrupted by Ben throwing up one hand. 

His normally pale face is slightly flushed, his dark eyes narrowed. “Did you say the Organa Art Foundation?” 

Largely oblivious to his reaction, Rey nods. “Yeah, the lady who runs it, Leia Organa, she’s the one who bought this place.” 

“Oh,  _ is  _ she?” Ben asks, and Rey notices now how tension has seemed to seep into every line of his body. 

It strikes her then that she cannot even begin to guess Ben Solo’s reactions to things. The more time she spends around him, the more confused she seems to get. “Um. Yes?” Somehow, that feels like an admission, but she doesn’t know what there is to be guilty about. 

Ben’s manner shifts abruptly, his face going carefully blank as he reaches into his pocket and tugs out his wallet. “I see. Well, thanks for watching Iofe and Lanie tonight on such short notice. How much do I owe you?” 

“Oh. Uhhh, I hadn’t thought about it.” It wasn’t until this moment, in fact, that Rey remembered people usually got paid for things like babysitting. 

Ben makes a sound in the back of his throat like he’s irritated before pulling out a wad of cash that makes Rey’s eyes bulge. “Is fifty an hour okay? That’s what I give my usual sitter.” 

$100. $100 for handprints and some Easy Cheese. “Yeah, that sounds fine,” Rey says faintly. She accepts the money in a bit of a trance and stares down at the face of some old dead guy who’s relevant to Americans dazedly. She doesn’t even realize that Ben has moved until he’s standing in her doorway. 

“Goodnight, Rey,” he says. 

“Yeah, ‘night.” She waves the $100 bill at him in farewell. The door closes behind him with a click. 


	4. Of MSG and Egg Rolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh, sorry this took so long. hurricane michael knocked out my power for a while and i still don't have internet back so i've been writing in snatches at school ;-;

_ “An artist’s residency.”  _

_ “You know I’ve always supported the arts. I don’t see what you’re getting at, Ben.”  _

_ “Yes, you do. My new neighbor.”  _

_ “Oh, you’ve met? I didn’t think you talked to your neighbors much.”  _

_ “Leia.”  _

_ “Yes?”  _

_ “The next time you want to meddle? Reconsider.”  _

\- 

Rey is beginning to think that she should just expect the unexpected when it comes to Ben Solo. So far, he’s done nothing but baffle her. First, he’s an asshole. Then, he’s an even bigger asshole. Then, just when she’s expecting him to be at his worst, he asks her if she’s okay and hands her $100. He makes zero sense. 

Painting. Painting makes sense. Painting, in Rey’s opinion, is much better than people. Colors and brushes and drop cloths, those she can understand. So it is that five days later, she finds herself having made considerable progress on her bedroom galaxy. Their handprints have been absorbed into the fabric of her fabricated universe, the Solos’ secret sealed away. 

She’s taking a much needed break early one evening when it begins as it always does: with a knock at the door. Rey abandons her near-boiling water (she’s making spaghetti, nothing glamorous) to answer it. 

It’s Ben. Who else would it be? 

Rey leans one hip against her doorframe and brushes tousled hair from her face. “What’s up?” she asks.

“I was wondering if you’d be free to watch the kids again. Not tonight, I wouldn’t do the short notice thing to you twice in a row.” He pushes back his own hair, and Rey’s eyes track the movement before she forces herself to focus back on his face. He really does have nice hair, though. “Tomorrow night. Same time, same deal. You could use my house, though. Given the, uh, furniture situation.” He grimaces, but Rey suspects that’s directed at himself more than her. 

She chews absently at a fingernail, contemplating. She’s already been more involved with the Solos than she expected to be, but Ben is… trying? This seems like trying. He’s gone five whole minutes without insulting her, either directly or indirectly. Definitely progress. Plus, she can’t deny that she has a soft spot for his kids. The past few days have been pretty quiet without them intruding on her life somehow. 

She makes her decision just as a high-pitched whistling noise starts up from behind them. 

Ben leans to one side to see past her, brow furrowed. “Do you have something on the stove?” 

“Shit!” Rey yelps, leaping back into the kitchen to crank down the burner. White-foamed water spills over the edges of the pot, and she has to lift it up to let it cool down for a minute before placing it back on the stove. “Sorry,” she calls as she measures out a handful of spaghetti and dumps the noodles in. “You can just come in, if you want.” 

Ben hesitates. He does step in, but he stops just inside the doorway, looking a little lost. “If you’re busy, I can come back later…” 

Rey shakes her head as she hunts down a spoon. “It’s just spaghetti. Any normal person would be able to make it without turning it into a disaster. I’m just a disaster.” She rolls her eyes at herself, finally hunts down a spoon, and starts stirring in the noodles. Then she remembers why Ben’s there and freezes, glancing back at him over her shoulder with an uncertain smile. “A disaster who is willing to watch your kids?” 

Ben snorts. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that,” he says. “I know you’re perfectly capable of keeping them alive. Anyway. They’ll be glad to hear it.” He raps his knuckles against the doorframe and turns to leave. 

-

If Rey hadn’t already noticed the gaping disparity between her and the Solos, she would have the second she stepped into their house. It looks like something straight out of a magazine spread, even with two children living there. If Rey hadn’t seen them with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed kids had ever set foot in the place. The only sign that anyone actually lives there is pictures scattered here and there, on the mantel of the fireplace, hung on the walls, on the entertainment system. 

Rey turns to Ben with lifted eyebrows. “What are you, an interior designer?” 

“Actually, I work in finance,” Ben says before raising his voice. “Lanie! Iofe! Rey’s here, and I have to head out.” 

In the distance, the sounds of doors opening and rapidly approaching footsteps.

“I’d give you a house tour, but I really do have to go,” Ben says, already leaning towards the door. “You know the layout, anyways. It’s the same as yours.”

That’s as may be, but Rey is well aware that nothing about this place is “same as hers.” She starts to relax a little when two girl-shaped forms cannon into the room. 

Lanie throws her arms around Ben’s waist in an enthusiastic hug while Iofe settles for a more sedate one-armed embrace. 

“Okay, you two behave for Miss Rey while I’m gone, got it?” He waits until he gets twin nods of acknowledgement before wrapping them both up in a quick hug. His eyes catch Rey’s as he extricates himself from clinging limbs. “The kitchen is open, by the way. I’d appreciate an actual dinner this time.” 

Rey gives him a jaunty salute. “Sir, yes sir.” 

Ben casts his eyes toward the ceiling but starts making his way out. “All right, see you all later. Love you.” This last he directs at his girls, blowing them a kiss. 

Lanie pretends to catch it, but Iofe just wrinkles her nose, and Rey has to stifle a laugh. The teenage years, she predicts, are going to be a lot of fun. Almost as soon as the door shuts, the girls are on her. 

“Come on,” Iofe says, seizing Rey’s wrist and tugging her toward the stairs. “I want to show you all the cool stuff in my room.” 

“No fair!” Lanie cries. She scurries after them until she can latch on to Rey’s other wrist. “I wanted to show her my room too.” 

Rey would raise her hands in supplication if they weren’t otherwise occupied. As it is, all she can do is say, “Okay, okay, I think we have time for both of you to show me things.” That seems to placate Lanie, as she only sighs and keeps trailing after them. 

Iofe steps into her room and presents it with a flourish, finally releasing Rey. “Ta-da!” 

It becomes immediately clear what she’d wanted to show off. A Queen poster hangs proudly above her bed, and a smile instantly blossoms on Rey’s face.

“You like it?” Iofe asks, clearly delighted. “I made dad buy it for me. And the CD.” She hops up to sit on her bed and bounces a little where she sits. 

“It’s pretty awesome,” Rey agrees. She’s a poster girl herself -- her flat in London had been covered in them -- but the sad truth of having to paint the walls meant that she hadn’t been able to bring any of them with her when she’d moved. This is like the tiniest, bittiest slice of home, and she welcomes it. 

A second later, Iofe is springing back up, drawing Rey’s attention to the rest of the room. It looks like a twelve year old girl with money lives in it, she thinks. Her navy blue bedspread (a queen-sized, naturally) matches the muted colors of her walls. Closet doors stand open, revealing a plethora of uniforms with a few personal items thrown in and a hamper with more scattered around it than stuffed into it. A backpack hangs from one step from a desk chair, the desk itself covered in homework that is being neglected and a variety of toys and trinkets that, Rey assumes, hold some significance in Iofe’s mind. There are a couple other posters plastered up too, mostly bands and movies Rey doesn’t recognize and hasn’t seen. 

Iofe brings Rey’s attention back to her when she pops back up, gleaming trophy in hand. 

“What’s this?” Rey asks, taking it from her. It’s a slim golden figure in a pose that she thinks she recognizes as some sort of swimming thing. The base is emblazoned with her name and “First Place: 100 Meter.” 

“A trophy!” Iofe exclaims. She tilts her chin up proudly. “I’m in swimming. I do butterfly, and I’m really good at it.” 

Rey has to bite her lip to keep from smiling at her braggadocio. “I can see that,” she says, tracing her thumbnail over the engraved words. 

Lanie crowds up next to her and taps on her knee. “I do gymnastics,” she says. 

Eyebrows lifted, Rey lowers Iofe’s trophy. “Can you do a handstand?” she asks. When Lanie nods, she continues, “Show me.” 

Instantly, Lanie backs up to give herself enough space and tips herself forward onto her palms. She lifts her legs into the air and balances there for a moment before going back flat-footed. “Ta-da!” 

Rey claps and gives her a thumbs-up. “Hey, that was way better than I could do. Consider me impressed.” Then, she heaves herself off the bed. “Okay, the rest of show and tell is going to have to wait because I should probably get dinner started. Let’s see what you guys have got, shall we?” 

The kitchen, Rey discovers, is a sad state of affairs. There is far too much green and far too little instant food for her taste. Clearly, she is going to be stuck actually making something. This does not bode well. She turns first to the top of the pantry. There’s a bag up there that looks like it might be some sort of snack food, and she reaches for it. Her face must convey her disgust because she hears twin giggles behind her. 

“Kale chips,” Rey says, reading the packaging. She turns the bag to face the girls. “Are these any good?” 

Iofe wrinkles her nose while Lanie adamanately shakes her head. 

Rey sets the bag back on top of the pantry. “Yeah, that’s about what I thought.” 

The fridge proves equally unhelpful. There are things in there she’s never even heard of, let alone knows how to use in a recipe. “Wheat germ?” she asks, staring down at a glass jar. 

Iofe is perched on a stool, elbows propped on the counter. She and Lanie have been watching her, thoroughly entertained by her periodic exclamations of dismay. “Dad uses that in pancakes,” she explains. “I don’t know why.” 

“Ick.” Rey returns the jar to the shelf and pulls out a bag of… something. She holds it up for Iofe’s inspection. 

Iofe shrugs. “Chia seeds. He puts those in pancakes too. And yogurt.” 

Rey’s despair only grows. Chia seeds. As far as she knows, those are only used to grow planted pets. She didn’t even know they  _ could  _ be eaten. She’s just beginning to think a trip to the store might be in their future when she opens the pantry and finds salvation: cans. Rey can work with cans. It’s still weird, organic stuff, but she seizes upon a can of garbanzo beans. Inspiration comes in a flash, and she pulls her phone out, googling feverishly. In seconds, she has a decent-looking falafel recipe pulled up. 

“How do you kids feel about falafel?” she asks, glancing up at them. 

Lanie and Iofe exchange glances. Iofe answers for both of them. “We’ve never had it.” 

“Well, you’re going to tonight.” Rey is already moving around the kitchen as she speaks, digging out the various spices and other ingredients she’ll need. Has she ever made falafel before? No. But how hard can it be? 

The kids wander away as Rey sets to chopping vegetables and tossing them in a food processor. At first, she had been worried that Ben wouldn’t have a food processor, but she really should have known better. It doesn’t seem like there’s a lot Ben doesn’t have. She dumps the chickpeas straight from the can into the processor only to realize the recipe calls for draining them first. Rey looks at the slightly watery mixture sitting in the food processor, glances at the can in her hand, and decides draining was probably not a super necessary step. It’s just a little bean juice. 

The barebones guide she’s following calls for it to be blended until it resembles a thick paste, but Rey never quite gets there. She grimaces a little as she pokes at the decidedly slimy mixture that could  _ almost  _ be called a paste. Maybe, just maybe, she should have put more stock in the draining thing. 

Rey’s attempts to form the almost-paste into balls go about as well as could be expected. They look like patties at best and lumpy pancakes at worst. She can still save this, she tells herself. Everything tastes better after you fry it. 

So thinking, she sets some vegetable oil to simmering and drops the patties in. They certainly don’t look like disasters. They look like golden brown medallions that Rey can’t wait to sink her teeth into, but she turns her attention to the sauce she’s supposed to be making. 

She whisks tahini, garlic powder, water, and salt together until it looks enough like sauce to satisfy her. Drizzle, the recipe says, and drizzle Rey attempts to do after she’s fished the falafel out of its sizzling bed of oil. It looks a little sad, lying there in barely-ball-shaped lumps, so she takes the recipe’s advice and stuffs it into some pita bread (because of course Ben just has pitas on hand). 

“Dinner’s ready!” she calls. She isn’t sure if she was loud enough to be heard throughout the house, but the sound of quick footsteps reaches her ears, followed soon afterwards by eager faces. 

Iofe moves past Rey into the kitchen to grab forks while Lanie plops herself down at the table. “Lanie,” Iofe says with a huff. “You could help. Drinks?” 

“Oh, right.” Lanie springs back to her feet and starts rummaging around in the refrigerator. 

Rey navigates around the two of them to set plates on the table. She sets Lanie’s down where she’d just sat but has to wait until Iofe gets there with the silverware to find out where her usual place is. Lanie carefully carries over glasses of water one at a time, and soon they’re all settled. 

The kids poke at the pita bread, or more specifically, what’s inside the pita bread. 

“Okay, dad makes some weird stuff, but this is the weirdest,” Iofe says. “What did you say this was?” 

“Falafel,” Rey replies. 

Lanie makes a face. “If it’s awful, why would we eat it?” she asks. 

Rey can’t help but snort. “Not awful,” she says. “ _ Falafel. _ It’s Middle Eastern.” Though knowing her cooking, it has every chance of being awful. “Here goes nothing,” she mutters, bringing the pita to her lips. 

Were life kinder, this would be Rey’s underdog moment. Everything would taste delicious. The mistakes she’d made in the kitchen would be relegated to the few paragraphs above, forgotten by the time this paragraph rolled around. Rey, Lanie, and Iofe would scarf down the healthy dinner, she would brag about her success when Ben returned, and things would be fine. But life isn’t always kind. The falafel is awful. 

Iofe doesn’t spit it out, but she doesn’t swallow either. She holds it in her mouth with an expression that says she wishes it would dissolve into nothing and save her the choice. 

Lanie isn’t quite as stoic. She tries to be polite about it at least, putting her mouth almost right up against the plate and letting it fall off her tongue onto the ceramic. “Actually, Miss Rey, I’m not very hungry,” she mumbles. 

It is exactly what it looks like: mush. Perhaps Rey shouldn’t have been so blasé about draining the beans. The taste is tolerable, but the texture is nigh unbearable, and Rey barely convinces herself to swallow her own bite. She sets the pita down and stares at the kids. They can’t just not have dinner, and she isn’t about to attempt cooking anything else. “Would you be hungry,” she asks, “if I ordered Chinese?” 

-

They sit surrounded by takeout cartons, forks in hand after Rey’s failed attempts to teach Lanie and Iofe how to use chopsticks. Rey spears another stalk of broccoli and chews as she leans over the table to better see the picture Iofe is showing her. 

“See?” Iofe says, pointing to the photo album. “That’s me in the race I won.” 

The picture captures her in motion, rising up out of the pool with her arms extended out gracefully in front of her, goggles strapped securely in place, water flying around her. Rey has to admit, it looks pretty impressive. 

Lanie wiggles into the space between Iofe and Rey and points to another picture on the page. This one depicts a girl in a sparkly pink leotard hanging from a bar a good six feet in the air. “And that’s me doing gymnastics!” 

“Impressive stuff,” Rey says. It intrigues her, to see the girls’ lives outside of Ben’s house. She flips the page and blinks, confronted by the image of a hospital bed. 

“That’s me as a baby,” Iofe says by way of explanation. 

Rey’s curiosity sharpens as she looks from baby Iofe to her parents. The mother is a blonde wisp of a woman who’s giving the camera an exhausted smile. Her green eyes are half-closed, and she looks ready to fall asleep at any moment.  _ That must be their mother.  _ Then, her attention turns to Ben. He’s ignoring the camera completely, his sole focus on the baby resting on her mother’s chest. One massive hand is wrapped around the bed-rail, but the other is resting oh-so-carefully on Iofe’s head. 

It makes Rey’s heart melt a little, if she’s being honest. But the main thing that strikes her about him is that he seems… young. Really young. So does the woman, now that she thinks about it. “Hey, how old is your dad anyways?” she asks. 

“So old,” Lanie says immediately. 

Iofe nods in agreement. “Almost 30.” 

Rey bites her lip to keep from laughing, already starting her mental calculation. So if he’s 29 and Iofe is 12… 17. Ben is 17 in that picture. She looks back at it again, and, yeah, now that she knows, she can see the gangly awkwardness that only teenagers can truly possess. Jesus. She can’t imagine having a kid at 17, having a two-year-old now. Ben must have really wanted kids. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lanie elbow Iofe. “Ask her the question,” she says in what’s meant to be a whisper but is, in fact, perfectly audible. 

Rey glances over at them. “What question?” 

Iofe sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and gnaws at it for a second before asking, “Do you think mom will ever stop loving us like she stopped loving dad?” 

Rey sets her fork, still topped with broccoli, back down onto her plate and stares at them. Neither of the kids is looking at her; Iofe is staring firmly down at the ground, and Lanie is pushing noodles around with her chopsticks. Rey knows what she’s supposed to say. She’s supposed to say that moms will always love their kids, no matter what. But… hers hadn’t. Her mom had dumped her off on someone else the first chance she’d gotten and never looked back. The truth was that sometimes mothers just weren’t meant to be mothers. 

“I think if your mom is smart,” she says carefully, “she wouldn’t want to give up a first-place butterfly swimmer and a champion handstander. And you two are the smartest kids I know, so your mom must be pretty smart too.”

Maybe it wasn’t the perfect thing to say, but it seems to do the trick. Lanie is still chasing noodles, but the corners of her lips are turned up in a smile and Iofe is nodding thoughtfully.

Rey flips the photo album closes and pushes back from the table. “All right,” she says. “I think it’s about time we get you-” and she pauses to tap Lanie’s nose, “-to bed.” Dinner had run later than expected, what with having to wait for delivery and all, and she had half-expected Ben to be back by now. Still, he wasn’t, and she wasn’t going to have him chew her out about letting his kids stay up too late. She glances at the cartons of Chinese food and grimaces. She’s going to be in enough trouble already. 

Lanie protests all the way through the bedtime process, begging Rey to let her wait up until Ben gets back even while she’s brushing her teeth. 

“You have school in the morning, kiddo,” is Rey’s stoic response. Eventually, she gets Lanie settled in bed with her alarm clock set and ready. Rey pauses in the doorway just as she’s about to flick off the light. “You good? Need me to read to you or sing or anything?” At a sleepy shake of the head, she flips the switch and pulls Lanie’s door shut. 

On her way back to the kitchen, she notices the light on in Iofe’s room. She pokes her head in to find her bent over her desk, the photo album abandoned on her bed. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?” 

At the sound of Rey’s voice, Iofe turns. “I won’t,” she promises. Then, she goes back to whatever she’s working at, and Rey withdraws. 

Rey clears the dishes off the table, packs up what’s left of the Chinese and sticks it in the fridge, and dumps her attempt at falafel in the trash. The next few minutes are spent cleaning the dishes, but even by the time she’s finished that, Ben hasn’t gotten back. Rey eyes the clock, which is edging towards 8:45.

With nothing better to do, she takes to wandering around the living room. The furniture looks too high-end for her to sit on, so she paces around and peers at the pictures instead. Most of them are of the kids posed in various places, mostly exotic locales like beaches with too-blue-to-be-real water or mountain paths that look like they belong on postcards. Ben appears in a few of them, usually with one daughter or another perched on his shoulders or in his arms. His ex-wife isn’t in any. 

By 9:15, Rey has admitted defeat and dropped onto the couch. She smooths her hand over the cushions and stares off into the distance, letting her thoughts wander. It’s hard to imagine Ben as a teen dad, even with photographic evidence. It doesn’t match up with the very adult idea she has of him. She remembers her water pistol fight with the kids, her blasting “Fat Bottomed Girls” in a school parking lot and grimaces. And she’s two years older than he was when he’d had Iofe. She might see him as mature, but she doubts the feeling is mutual. 

Ben returns at a little after 9:30. “Sorry I’m so late,” he says as Rey sits up. “The meeting ran over. The kids asleep?” 

Rey nods. “Lanie went to bed around 8-ish, and Iofe did a little while ago.” She’d checked to make sure mere minutes before.   

“Great. Thanks.” Ben loosens his tie and runs a hand through his hair as he walks into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and says, “I see you ordered Chinese.” 

Instantly, Rey is up off the couch and trailing after him. “Before you start going on about MSG or sodium or whatever, it was only because I didn’t know how to cook fucking kale chips,” she mutters. She braces herself for Ben’s anger, but to her surprise, the corners of his lips twitch. 

“I’ll forgive you if there’s egg rolls.” He tugs out one of the cartons, closes the fridge with a bump of his hip, and gets out a plate. 

“Uh. Yeah, there are.” Caught off-guard by his good humor, Rey plops herself down on a stool at the counter and watches him stick the leftovers into the microwave. “In my defense, I did  _ try  _ to make falafel. I just can’t cook.” 

Ben turns to face her as the microwave starts. “I’m not mad at you,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “I get why you thought I would be, though. I’ve been a dick.” He pushes up his sleeves and braces himself against the counter. “Sorry.” 

Rey almost gapes at him. The very last thing she’d ever expected from him was an apology, especially one that sounds so genuine. “Okay,” she says. 

He taps his fingers against the countertop, mouth twisted into a grimace. “I know I’ve probably come across as a bit uptight.” He glances up at her from under furrowed brow when she snorts and amends, “Or a lot uptight. When we got divorced, Kira -- my ex-wife -- really pushed for custody. She wanted to move and take the kids with her, ostensibly for her job, but I think she mostly wanted to keep them away from me. I had the benefit of a better-paying job and a DUI-free driving record, but she’s never. Stopped. Pushing. If something goes wrong, if one of them gets hurt, or sick, or something happens at school, she’ll know about it and use it against me. That’s why I freaked out on you when I got that call from Harker.” He meets her eyes. “I shouldn’t have taken that out on you, though. It wasn’t fair of me. I just… I can’t lose my kids, Rey.” 

All Rey can do is stare back at him. 

The microwave beeps, and she has a second to compose herself as Ben moves to retrieve his food. He leans against the counter across from her, plate cradled in one hand. 

“I’m sorry too,” she says. “That you have to deal with that. For what it’s worth, though,” and she waits until he looks over at her to continue, “I think you’re doing a pretty great job. Your kids obviously love you, so...” She trails off with a shrug. 

He flashes her a lopsided smile. “Thanks.” Then, as if just remember something, he sets his plate down and reaches into his back pocket. “How much do I owe you for tonight?” 

Rey waves his wallet away. “Dinner’s on me. I paid for it with what you gave me for babysitting last time anyways.” 

Ben hesitates. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” Rey hops off the stool. “Enjoy the egg rolls.” 

Ben lifts his plate to her as if in a toast. “I will.” 

With a grin, Rey gives him a short wave goodbye before slipping out of the house. She pauses for a moment outside to lean back against the door and let out a breath. Ben had seemed surprisingly human. The image of his crooked smile flickers in front of her eyes again, and she finds her own mouth smiling in response. She kind of hopes this Ben sticks around. 


	5. Excuse Me Neighbor, Could I Trouble You For...?

It takes a while before Rey has the chance to find out whether Ben is going to stay nice or revert back to his former asshole-ish ways. She catches glimpses of him and the girls every now and then. She spends a few mornings on her porch, watching the sunset as she sips coffee and curses art because it sucks, and it’s the worst, and what the hell made her think she wanted to do this for a living anyways? On those mornings, she watches Ben hug his daughters goodbye before heading off to work, watches Lanie and Iofe depart for the bus stop a few moments later. They always wave at her enthusiastically. She waves back. 

In spite of those mornings, Rey makes progress. Her room is transformed into a sweeping expanse of space. Standing in the middle of it, surrounded by constellations (all carefully researched and painstakingly replicated), she feels almost weightless. 

Once she only has finishing touches left, she moves into the hallway. This, she has decided, will be a canyon. She wants people to feel like they’ve descended deep into the earth even though they’ve traveled upstairs. This means going through the agonizing process of hauling  _ more  _ paint cans upstairs, but she rolls up her sleeves and gets to it. 

It’s about when she’s lugging the sixth can of paint up step by step (a shade of brown that’s only slightly different from a shade she’d brought up in her second trip) that it occurs to her: she has a neighbor with big, muscly arms. He might not absolutely hate her anymore. It is entirely possible she could ask this neighbor for assistance. She almost does it too, at around the ninth can, but she’s bound and determined to do this on her own. Besides, she’s only got one more can after this. She’ll be damned if she gives up so close to being done. 

_ But you’re not done,  _ a traitorous voice whispers in her head.  _ You haven’t even started the actual  _ painting  _ yet.  _

“Shut up,” she huffs aloud. At least painting won’t make her arms feel like bricks. 

All her other supplies are already upstairs, courtesy of her work on her bedroom, and Rey is grateful for that because if she had to carry so much as another paintbrush, she thinks she really would go bother Ben about it. 

She’s just set down the final can when the doorbell rings. Naturally. 

Rey thunks her forehead against the wall and groans. It’s either Ben or his kids -- because it always is -- and she looks positively frightful. She’d thrown on a ratty sweatshirt and yoga pants, and all those stairs had made her sweaty and red-faced. “Go away,” she mumbles to the wall. 

But they don’t. The doorbell rings again, and once more, and then, when she still hasn’t moved, they take to knocking. 

“All right, all right, I’m coming!” Rey shouts, unsure if whoever it is can hear her. Grumbling, she stomps back down the stairs, determined to give Ben, or possibly a pair of kids, a piece of her mind. The pounding continues even as she lays her hand on the knob and swings the door open. It’s Ben, his hand poised to continue knocking. “What?” she snaps. He was rude to her first; she can be rude back. 

Ben doesn’t seem to notice her irritation. “I have kind of an awkward question, so I apologize in advance, but I don’t know anyone else to ask. Do you have a pad I could borrow? Well, not borrow. Use. Well--take?” His mouth hangs open as if he’s going to make another attempt at correcting himself, but he closes it without saying anything more. 

Rey’s annoyance vanishes in the face of such an unexpected request. It’s amusing, the way he’s colored all the way to the tips of his ears, and she does her best to exude nonchalance as she leans one hip against the door, arms folded across her chest.  _ Oh, yes,  _ the pose seems to say.  _ I have male neighbors come over to ask me for pads all the time. This is just a regular Saturday.  _ “I’m guessing this isn’t a personal request,” she says, one eyebrow arched. 

“It’s for Iofe,” Ben says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “She just started hers, and I’m… a little unprepared. I’m headed to the store right after this.” 

Rey grimaces. Iofe’s probably not having a good time, and she feels a pang of sympathy for her. “Okay, wait here a second. Be right back.” He nods, and she doesn’t bother shutting the door as she disappears back into the house. She has to go back up the stairs to get to her bathroom, but she doesn’t even mind. She returns to Ben and offers him the pink-wrapped rectangle. “It’s a little overkill, but all I had was maxi.” 

“Better than nothing,” Ben says pragmatically as he takes it from her. He doesn’t look her in the eyes. “Okay. Thanks. I better get this to Iofe.” 

“Ben.” 

He pauses just as he’s about to step off the porch to glance back at her. Or, more accurately, to glance in her general direction. 

Rey’s lips curl into the faintest smile. “Do you want me to come with you? To the store?” 

Ben hesitates, his hand tightening around the pad. “You’re probably busy,” he says with a shrug. “I’m sure I can… figure things out.” 

“I’m not that busy.”

Shoulders sagging in what looks a lot like relief, Ben nods. “Please. There are so many kinds, and I don’t even really know what maxi means.” He finally makes eye contact with a weak smile and a half-hearted shrug.

Rey laughs a little. “That’s what I thought. Go get that to Iofe,” she nods to the pad he’s clutching like a lifeline, “and I’ll head over there once I’ve grabbed my purse.” 

Ben’s head dips in acknowledgement of what she’s said, then he’s hurrying across the lawn to Iofe’s rescue. 

Paint cans and sore muscles forgotten, Rey ascends the stairs yet again to collect her purse. She’s not sure she’ll actually need it, but it feels weird to leave the house without it. It feels strange to step into Ben’s house without knocking first, but she figures he’ll be busy with Iofe. She creeps into the house, holding her breath as if she expects to be discovered and kicked out. The sound of voices filters to her from the stairs, and she makes her way to the second floor. 

“Iofe?” It’s Ben, knocking on what must be the bathroom door.  

There’s a grumbling reply that Ben takes to be a yes. He disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

Rey leans against the wall of the landing. She’s about to get out her phone when a tiny hand worms its way into hers. Startled, Rey glances down to find Lanie’s worry-big eyes staring up at her.

“Miss Rey,” Lanie says, her voice little more than a whisper. “Is Iofe dying?” 

She sounds so earnest, so solemn, but Rey manages to keep a mostly sober expression on her face. It wouldn’t do to laugh at Lanie’s obvious distress. She squeezes her hand and shakes her head. “Your sister’s fine.” She gives her a smile that’s supposed to be reassuring, but Lanie doesn’t look convinced. 

“Are you sure? She was bleeding-” and she lowers her voice even further so that Rey has to bend practically in half to hear her, “-in her  _ underwear. _ ”

Unsure how, or even if, she should explain what’s really going on, Rey kneels down to Lanie’s level and sandwiches her small hand between both of hers. “Iofe is going to be fine. I promise.” 

Lanie nods once, eyes flooded with relief. 

At that moment, the bathroom door flies open and Iofe comes stomping out, her brow stormy. If she’s surprised to see Rey, she doesn’t show it. “I’m glad  _ you’re  _ here,” she mutters as she stomps towards the stairs. “Dad has no idea what he’s doing.” 

Rey glances up to find Ben in the bathroom of the doorway. He shrugs helplessly.  Rey gives Lanie one last, reassuring squeeze before following after Iofe. “Your dad is trying,” she says, though she’s not sure Iofe hears her. 

All she gets in response is a snort. 

They pile into the car, the two girls in the back, Rey in the passenger seat. The BMW somehow has a new-car smell despite being inhabited by an entire family. Must be some magical quality of the wealthy, Rey decides. Permanent new-car smell. 

The first half of the drive is fairly uneventful and entirely too quiet for Rey’s comfort. She keeps shifting on the leather seat and making it squeak. Every time, without fail, the corner of Ben’s lips quirk up into something almost like a smile, and she can feel her cheeks getting hot. Why won’t this stupid seat shut up? She solves the problem by sitting up straight-backed and rigid, an uncomfortable position to be sure, but worth it to keep from embarrassing herself further. 

Things fall apart when whispering starts up from the backseat. It grows louder and louder until Ben and Rey can clearly hear Iofe’s waspish, “Stop touching me!” and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. 

“Ow! Daddy, Iofe hit me!” Lanie whines. 

Iofe jumps to her own defense. “She wouldn’t stop poking me.” 

Ben’s hands tighten almost imperceptibly around the wheel. “Lanie, if your sister doesn’t want to be touched, don’t touch her. Iofe, don’t hit your sister.” 

“She started it,” Iofe says, folding her arms over her chest. 

“I’m just checking to make sure you haven’t died.” Lanie sounds on the verge of tears, and Rey can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. 

Iofe huffs. “I’m not going to die, you  _ spaz _ . It’s just my period.”

“What’s a period?” 

But Iofe has retreated into herself with a sullen set to her shoulders. “Forget it.” 

Lanie turns her line of questioning onto her next target. “Daddy? What’s a period?” 

Ben clears his throat and stares straight ahead, very pointedly not looking at Rey. “It’s a part of puberty,” he says, and Rey can practically feel him weighing every word. “It’s just a change your body goes through when it’s ready to start having kids.” 

“Wait,” Iofe says. “This doesn’t mean I’m having a kid, right?”

Ben’s face goes paler than usual, and Rey has to cough to hide a strangled bout of laughter. Apparently, he hadn’t chosen his words carefully enough.

“No.” Ben shakes his head once. “Having a period means you aren’t pregnant. It’s when you don’t have one that you have to worry.” 

If he had asked, Rey could have told him that wasn’t the right thing to say either. But he didn’t, and it’s out now, and all she can do is sit back and watch the fireworks.  

Immediately, Lanie freezes. “Daddy,” she whispers. “I don’t have a period. Does that mean  _ I’m  _ going to have a kid?”

“What? No.” Ben glances at her through the rearview mirror. “It’s only after you have it the first-” 

“I don’t wanna be pregnant!” Lanie practically wails, and Ben’s grip gets that much tighter on the steering wheel. 

Rey turns toward the window, one hand slapped over her mouth, shoulders shaking as she desperately tries to keep from laughing. 

“No, nobody’s pregnant!” Ben’s voice is overloud in the enclosed space. “There’s more to being pregnant than just having or  _ not  _ having your period.” 

Far from satisfied, Lanie forges onward. “Like what?” Her tone is accusing, as if she suspects him of lying just to calm her down. 

“Like sex?” Iofe suggests. 

Rey’s eyes fly wide open, and she glances over at Ben to find his lips pressed together into a firm line, his knuckles white as he squeezes the steering wheel like he’s choking it out. 

“Where did you hear about that?” he asks, eyes finding Iofe’s in the mirror. 

Iofe shrugs. “My friend Breanna told me.” 

For the first time since getting in the car, Ben glances over at Rey. “Her friend Breanna told her,” he says, sounding resigned. 

Rey lifts her eyebrows. ‘Middle schoolers,’ she mouths, then shrugs as if to say “What can you do?” 

Lanie glances from one to the other of them, brow furrowed. “What’s sex?” she asks.

“Look.” Ben pinches the bridge of his nose without taking his eyes off the road. “I promise we will have this conversation later, but for now, let’s just get to the store and get what we need, okay?” 

There are two reluctant “Okays” from the backseat, and Ben lets out a long, slow breath. 

Blessed silence descends once more. 

Lanie breaks it. “But are you  _ sure  _ I’m not pregnant?” 

And it’s a good thing they’re at a red light because Ben’s head falls forward onto the steering wheel, and he groans like he’s dying. 

-

The store is far less eventful than the trip there. Rey helps Iofe figure out what she needs, making sure Ben takes note of it. “You can pretty much just keeping buying this kind from now on,” she says. “Don’t need a lot of variety.” 

Iofe seems slightly less sullen as they head back out, and her mood only brightens when Ben takes them off track to pull into a Dairy Queen. 

Rey arches her eyebrows as he brings the car to a stop and the kids scramble to unbuckle themselves. “Well, this is unhealthy,” she muses. “Maybe I  _ am  _ a bad influence.” 

“I’m distracting my kids with sugar,” Ben says, unbuckling his own seatbelt. “We do not need another pregnancy conversation on the way home.” 

Snickering, Rey says, “Oh, but you handled it  _ so well. _ ” If looks could kill, Ben would have slain Rey where she sat. As it is, she just laughs, hops out of the BMW, and follows the kids into the ice cream shop. 

The kids practically dance up to the counter to place their orders. Ben tugs out his wallet and glances over at Rey. “You want anything?” 

“Nah, I’m good.” Rey is almost surprised at the offer after the way he’d glared at her, but she appreciates it all the same. “I’ll go snag a table.” So saying, she slips into a table that’s a booth on one side with two chairs on the other. She claims a chair across from a window and props her chin in her hand, staring at the traffic zipping by outside. Her view is soon obscured by two small heads sliding into the booth opposite. 

“You should come with us to the store more often,” Iofe says around a mouthful of ice cream. “Dad never takes us to Dairy Queen.” 

One corner of Rey’s mouth curves into a smile. “I don’t think you can thank me for this one,” she says. 

Iofe shrugs and shoves another spoonful into her mouth. “You should come with us anyways. We like you.”

Rey finds her cheeks heating up a little. To distract herself from the compliment, she tugs a napkin out of the tableside dispenser and digs a pen out of her purse. She never goes anywhere without a pen. Its the work of a moment to capture Lanie and Iofe in a sketch: Lanie attempting to steal a spoonful of Iofe’s ice cream. By the time she’s started her next sketch, Ben has made his way to the table with his own ice cream. 

“Is that me?” he asks as he slides into the chair next to Rey’s. He lowers his head to better see the sketch. 

Rey hums assent and continues her doodle. 

Ben’s brow furrows. “Why do I look so… mad?” 

Rey glances up at him, her pen pausing. “You always look like this,” she says. She stares at his face for a second, notes a divot between his eyebrows she hadn’t seen before, and adds it to her sketch. 

“Hey,” Ben protests, “that’s not true. I smile!” 

The glance Rey gives him is nothing short of skeptical. 

“I do,” Ben insists. “Lanie, Iofe, come on, back me up here. Dad smiles, right?” 

“Sometimes,” Lanie says. 

“A lot more now that Miss Rey is around,” Iofe says, her face the picture of innocence. She immediately busies herself with her ice cream. 

Ben clears his throat. “O _ kay, _ too much back-up,” he mutters, poking at his own ice cream instead of looking at Rey. “The point is, I smile.” 

“Fine.” Rey flips the napkin over and starts another sketch, trying to ignore the flare-up of butterflies in her stomach that had started after Iofe’s comment. Kids exaggerate. She knows this. Better not to dwell on things. “One smile, coming up.” She calls up the image of the one time she can recall him seeming genuinely happy, when he’d come to pick up his kids.   

She sketches him in profile, his eyes downcast, the barest hint of a curve to his lips. Even so, the contentment radiating from him is evident. She signs her name with a flourish and sits back, shoving the napkin over towards Ben. “How’s that?” 

He glances down at it, and the same smile she’d just drawn spills onto his face. “Yeah, that’s good. Would you mind if I kept this?” 

Rey laughs a little. “You can’t be serious.” He just blinks at her. It appears he’s entirely serious. “Ben, it’s just a sketch on a napkin. This isn’t exactly my finest work.”

“I like it,” Ben says with a shrug. 

For a moment, all she can do is stare at him. It feels like he’s pulling her leg, like he’ll reveal it’s all a joke as soon as she acquiesces. “I mean… I guess. Want me to sign it for you too?” She means it to be sarcastic, to show him she’s immune to his teasing.

“Sure.” 

Rey adds her name with a flourish and watches incredulously as he folds the napkin neatly in half and tucks it into his wallet. 

Seemingly oblivious to Rey’s bemusement, he glances over at Lanie and Iofe. “You two ready to head home?” 

Rey drops her pen back in her purse as they stand and head back out to the car, her eyes fixed on the back of Ben’s head the whole way. She won’t, she thinks, ever be able to really figure him out. 

-

Ben’s sugar ambush works; neither of the kids freaks out about potentially being pregnant on the way back. Once they’re parked, Lanie and Iofe get out of the car, eager to stretch their legs as they coast on the sugar high. Ben and Rey disembark at a more sedate pace. 

“Thanks for helping out,” Ben says, one hand running through his hair. He can’t quite meet her eyes. 

Rey waves aside his thanks. “It was nothing.” Nothing but the most entertaining car trip she’d ever experienced. Ben’s discomfort alone had been worth it; she hadn’t known it was possible for him to seem so flustered. She gives him a wicked smile. “Good luck with the birds and the bees.” 

Ben groans. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help with that, too?” he asks, one eyebrow arched. 

“Oh no, you’re on your own for that one.” The last thing Rey wants to do is think about having a sex talk with Ben Solo, kids or no kids.

“That’s what I figured.” Ben says wearily. She’s about to leave when he continues, “Hey, about that sketch. Is that really what I look like?”   

Rey recalls the time he’d first picked up his kids or the moment in the kitchen when they’d teased each other about egg rolls. “On rare occasions.” She winks to take any possible sting out of the words. 

It graces Ben’s face again for a fleeting second, and suddenly Iofe’s words are ringing in Rey’s ears again. 

_...more now that Miss Rey is around… _

Rey takes a few steps back from the car. “Anyway. Glad you liked the drawing. I should get back to my actual project.” 

“Yes. Yeah. Sorry, didn’t mean to keep you.” 

Rey waves goodbye and beats a hasty retreat, trying and failing to pretend “now that Miss Rey is around” doesn’t mean anything to her.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i commissioned the ever-so-talented mrsmancuspia to replicate rey's sketch for me, and she did a fantastic job! (check out her tumblr for more amazing art [here](http://mrsmancuspia.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  


	6. House Inspection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of a filler chapter
> 
> also nano has started and i am using this fic to procrastinate on my actual project

An anomaly, this. Things have happened as usual: a knock on her door, a pause in her painting, a moment of curiosity as Rey sees who’s standing in front of her. And it isn’t Ben. Or his kids. Rey almost isn’t sure how to process this.

“Mrs. Organa,” she says, trying not to sound as shocked as she feels. She doesn’t want Leia thinking she’s some sort of shut-in or something (no matter how accurate that may be). “What are you doing here?” As far as Rey knows, there’s nothing she should have been preparing for. Her first progress check-in wasn’t until -- November. Which it now is. Oh. 

Leia arches one eyebrow. “I was in the neighborhood.” Her tone is dry, but there’s a glint of humor in her eyes that makes Rey think she might not be in too much trouble. “Are you going to invite me in, or do I have to intrude?”

Rey instantly steps aside and opens the door wider in invitation. “Oh, yeah, come on in! Sorry.” Good thing she’d been making good progress on that canyon. Still, now that Leia’s here, it feels like she’s barely done anything.  

Leia glances at the bare walls of the kitchen but doesn’t comment. Instead, she just turns back around to Rey and gestures toward the mostly-empty interior. “Give me the grand tour.”

The house seems to expand as Rey leads toward Leia to the sunroom-turned-desert, the white space pressing in on her.  She still has so much left to do, and the end of this month will mark her halfway point. Maybe, just maybe, she should spend a little less time around Ben and his kids. The thought is surprisingly disappointing, and Rey shoves it to the back of her mind. She has something else she should be focusing on. 

“I’ve got this room and the upstairs bedroom completely done,” she informs Leia as they walk into the sunroom. “And about halfway done with the upstairs hallway. I have plans for the rest of the rooms, though, and all the supplies for everything.” Aware that she’s nervous-talking, she forces herself to shut up and watch as Leia takes in the room around her.

Her face reveals nothing as her eyes wander over the sweeping sands up to the eggshell blue sky. She turns back to Rey and gestures for her to continue. 

So Rey takes her upstairs, anxiety churning in her gut. Leia hasn’t said anything. Why isn’t she saying anything? Does she hate it? Is Rey going to have to start all over again? The thought of having to haul everything back downstairs almost makes her want to cry. “So this is going to be the galaxy,” she says, pausing outside her bedroom door. “I know it’s not technically a place on earth, but you know those places you can go where there’s no buildings or lights or anything, and you feel like you’re falling into the sky? That’s what I wanted to capture.”  

Rey thinks Leia’s eyes widen slightly as she steps into the room, but she can’t be sure. Her imagination is torturing her, has been this whole tour, as she notices gaping flaws in her work. Like that cluster of stars off to the right there. There’s a black smear over one of the stars, and Rey’s spirit dies a little inside. How come she only notices things like this  _ after  _ she’s showed it to someone else? 

With what little confidence she can muster, Rey leads Leia into the hall where the canyon stands half-finished. She shoves an open paint can to the side with one foot; she’d been in the middle of carving out a river when Leia had rang her doorbell. 

When Leia seems to have looked her fill, she starts to head back downstairs, leaving Rey with little choice but to trail after her. She gnaws at her bottom lip nervously until they reach the kitchen and she can distract herself with the duties of a hostess. 

She’s just about to ask Leia if she wants something to drink when she turns to face her. The knot in Rey’s stomach loosens and falls away at the kindness in her expression. 

“This is impressive work, Rey, especially that galaxy of yours. I have a feeling this is going to be a highly successful project.” 

The praise soothes Rey’s ego and has her nearly dancing with glee. She restrains herself, though, because Leia is still her sponsor and she doesn’t want to look completely unprofessional in front of her. Still, she can’t help but lift her chin and pull back her shoulders. “Thanks, Mrs. Organa. I promise it’ll all look even better when it’s done.” At least, she hopes it will. “Can I get you something to drink, or eat, or anything?” 

Leia props herself up against the counter, and for the first time, Rey really regrets her lack of furniture. “A glass of water would be fine,” she says. 

Rey retrieves a glass from the cupboard, glancing over her shoulder at the way Leia is propped up on her elbows. “You can sit at the table if you want. Sorry I don’t have any stools.” Not that there’s usually anyone around to use them. She really is a bit of a shut-in.

Accepting the water, Leia shakes her head. “I spent the whole drive over here sitting; standing for a bit won’t kill me.” She takes a sip before smiling over at Rey. “How have things been going outside of work? Are you settling in okay? Met any of the neighbors?” 

There’s a mysterious quality to Leia’s smile that Rey can’t place, so she shrugs it off. It’s probably just her nerves getting to her again. “I’ve been keeping myself busy,” she says. “There’s a couple young girls who live next door that I’ve babysat a couple times. They’re pretty cute.” 

“Oh?” Leia runs her finger around the rim of her glass. “It’s good to hear you’re making friends.” 

Rey settles herself against the opposite side of the counter, glancing in the general direction of Ben’s house. “Yeah,” she says vaguely. She’s not sure she would classify her and Ben as “friends.” She’s not at all sure what they are, actually. “Their dad was a bit of jerk at first, but he’s lightened up a little. Haven’t met any of the other neighbors.” 

Leia’s eyebrows inch upwards. “Well, I’m sorry to have put you right next to ‘a bit of a jerk.’ That certainly wasn’t my intent.” 

Laughing lightly, Rey hurries to assuage what she supposes is guilt. “No, it’s okay. It was partly my fault anyway, messing with things I didn’t know about. And like I said, he’s gotten better. Maybe by the time the next artist moves in, he’ll be actually reasonable.” 

“One can hope.” Leia brings the glass back to her lips and drains most of the rest of it in one swallow. “Well, I think you’re making satisfying progress so far, Rey. I’ll check back in in another month or two, see how you’re getting on. If you need anything, or have to deal with any more pesky neighbors, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I don’t want any jerks ruining my foundation’s reputation.” She gives Rey a sly wink as she prepares to leave.   

Rey walks her to the door with another laugh. “Trust me,” she says, “I’m not going to let him ruin my residency.” 

Leia places a hand over to her chest. “A woman after my own heart. I knew there was a reason I sponsored you.” She steps onto the porch. “I’ll see you again soon, Rey. And I’ll be looking forward to seeing your progress.” 

“See you.” Rey waits in the doorway until Leia has gotten in her car and driven away. A flash of movement catches her eye, and she turns to see Ben standing on his porch, his own eyes fixed on Leia’s car. 

When it turns the corner and disappears from view, his gaze lands on Rey. 

She gives him a small wave. He hesitates a minute before returning it, then beats a hasty retreat back inside. With a shake of her head, Rey returns to her canyon, pulling the door closed behind her. 

\- 

Rey doesn’t talk to Ben again until a couple weeks later, nearer to the end of November. Her internal countdown clock has been switched on ever since Leia’s visit, and she’s growing more and more aware of how quickly her time here is dwindling. In a little over three short months, she’ll be headed back to England, the house painted, her show complete. And she’s just finished her canyon. 

_ One step at a time,  _ she reminds herself.  _ You can do this.  _

Rey is starting at the second upstairs bedroom, trying to mentally impose her image of the jagged mountain landscape she wants to paint onto the bare walls. This is the hardest part for her, the part where there are so many possibilities she can’t figure out how to turn one of them into reality. 

The doorbell is a welcome distraction. She hurries downstairs and practically flings the door open. “Hey,” she says. 

“Hi,” Ben replies. 

He looks nervous, Rey realizes, and then has to wonder when she learned what his nervous looked like. “Everything okay?” she asks. Concern tinges her voice as she thinks of what might have befallen Lanie or Iofe, though it can’t be anything too serious or Ben would have gone to the authorities instead of her. 

Ben seems to realize how uncertain he looks, and he clears his throat, shakes his head once. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just wanted to ask you something.” 

One corner of Rey’s mouth curves into a smile. “Iofe run out of pads already?” 

“What? Oh. No.” Ben snorts, but she can see amusement in his eyes. “Actually, I just thought I’d ask if you wanted to come over to my place for Thanksgiving. Since I know you don’t really cook. And you’re kind of… alone here.” He winces as he says it, and Rey guesses he hadn’t meant to put it so ineloquently. 

Her smile has faltered because, honestly, she’s a little taken aback. An invitation to Thanksgiving dinner was not even remotely on her radar. “Thanks for the invite,” she says slowly. “But you know that’s not really a holiday for me, right?” 

“The British thing,” Ben says. 

“The British thing,” Rey agrees. “So I don’t really feel like I’ll be missing out on anything.” 

Ben clears his throat again and shrugs. “Yeah, I get that. I just thought I’d ask since you already know most of my family and all. I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind having you over.” 

Rey’s brow furrows. She knows Lanie and Iofe, sure, but Ben’s mom? “Do I… know your mom?” she asks. 

For a moment, Ben just stands there blinking at her. “Yes? Leia. Your sponsor. She was just over here the other week, right? I thought I saw her car.” 

Rey goes weak in the knees and has to stop herself from clutching at the doorframe for support. He has to be joking. But even as she thinks that, she remembers his reaction when she’d told him how she’d gotten the house, how strange it had seemed at the time. Not as strange if he’d just found out his mother had bought the house next door and dropped a strange woman into it. “Oh,” she says, trying desperately to sound normal. “You don’t have the same last name. I didn’t make the connection.” She goes for a smile that probably ends up looking more like a grimace.

If Ben notices, he’s polite enough not to say anything about it. “Yeah, she kept hers instead of taking my dad’s. I’m surprised she never mentioned it, you living right next to her son.” 

Rey doesn’t respond. She can’t. She’s too busy desperately trying to remember what she’d said about Ben to Leia to try and keep up a conversation. 

Ben shifts his weight from one foot to the other before clearing his throat a third time and saying, “Well, the invitation still stands. Come over if you want.” 

That pulls Rey back into the present enough to reply. “Oh, yeah. Thanks. I won’t, but thanks. Have a happy Thanksgiving!” She shuts the door on Ben’s bemused expression and immediately takes to pacing the living room. What had she said?  _ What had she said?  _ Something about him being a jerk, she remembers that much. Okay, so she’d insulted her sponsor’s son to her face. It could have been worse. She could have mentioned how handsome she’d thought Ben was before he opened his mouth that first day. 

Groaning, Rey thumps her head against the wall. One thing’s for sure: she’s not going to face Leia at Ben’s Thanksgiving dinner. In fact, she’s not sure how she’s ever going to face Leia again.  


	7. Girls Gone Wild

_ “Mother, could I speak to you for a second? In the kitchen?”  _

_ “Of course, Ben. What is it?”  _

_ “You still owe me an explanation. First, you try to tempt me with a pretty young neighbor, or whatever you planned on doing when you moved Rey in next door. Then, you don’t tell her we’re related. I brought you up yesterday, and she had no idea you were my mother.”  _

_ “Honestly, Ben, not everything revolves around you. I chose her because I liked her art and I think she’s a talented young woman.  _ You  _ just happen to live next door.” _

_ “So I’m supposed to believe there was no ulterior motive here.”  _

_ “None whatsoever.”  _

_ “Somehow, I find that unlikely.”  _

-

Ben Solo is late -- again. 

Normally, Rey doesn’t mind. Normally, they are in his house instead of hers, but there was the aftermath of Thanksgiving to think about, not to mention Rey had made the mistake of telling Lanie and Iofe she’d finished painting the galaxy. They had begged to see it, though Rey had reminded them there was nothing to do at her house. Yet they had insisted. 

_ Well,  _ Rey thinks as the clock edges further and further past an acceptable dinner time,  _ if he wanted them to eat healthy, he should’ve been back from his meeting on time.  _ There’s not much in her house. She supposes she could run over to Ben’s and pilfer his leftovers, but the kids had balked at the suggestion. 

“I’m so tired of turkey and green beans,” Iofe had sighed, and Lanie had nodded in solemn agreement. 

Her second choice is much better received. “How do you two feel about pizza?” 

They’re waiting for it now, all three of them seated at the dining room table since it’s the only place with chairs. Rey has provided them with the one form of entertainment she has available: painting. They both have huge swathes of paper and a plethora of brushes and paints. She’s even managed to convince them to shroud themselves in some of her already-paint-splattered sweatshirts. The last thing she needs is to ruin her tenuous goodwill with Ben by letting them ruin their clothes. 

Rey works at a sketch of her own, concept art for the mountain range she’ll be moving onto. The canyon is nearing completion. 

It is into this peaceful quiet that Iofe unleashes chaos. “Dad likes you, you know,” she says, clearly addressing Rey though her eyes never leave her painting. 

Rey’s pencil pauses in its track. “Sorry?” 

Iofe glances up at her and offers her a smile that’s entirely too innocent. “Dad likes you,” she repeats. “I heard him talking to grandma on Thanksgiving. He called you the ‘pretty young neighbor.’ He doesn’t call  _ anyone  _ pretty.” 

Uh-oh. Rey suddenly realizes she has no idea what she’s supposed to do if the kids misbehave because that sounds a lot like a lie. “Iofe,” she says slowly, “you know you’re not supposed to lie, right? That’s not a good thing to do.” She almost winces it sounds so juvenile, but she has no experience in this area. 

Scoffing, Iofe sets down her brush and fixes Rey with a hard stare. “I’m not lying. He really said that.” 

Before Rey has the chance to reiterate again how lying is bad and Iofe shouldn’t do it, Lanie breaks in. “Miss Rey, do  _ you _ like  _ dad _ ?” 

Rey swallows. She can’t very well say no right to his daughter’s face, and besides, she doesn’t dislike him. Anymore. “I… yeah, I mean, I guess I do.” 

Lanie’s brush falls from her fingers, and her mouth falls open in a sharp gasp. “Then you have to kiss him!” she says, half-standing in her chair, hands planted on the table. “It’s the rules!” 

Completely and utterly taken aback by the strength of her reaction, Rey takes a minute to process what’s just been said. Not that it makes a whole lot more sense when she’s processed it. “Excuse me?” She feels as if she’s missed something obvious, but she has no idea what. “What rules?” 

“Like on the TV,” Lanie says, her eyes shining with insistence. She leans further forward, as if to force her conviction upon Rey through sheer force of will. “When two people like each other, they always kiss. So you and dad have to, too.” With a self-satisfied nod, she drops back into her seat. 

“Yeah, Rey,” Iofe says with a sly side-eye. “Like on the TV.” 

This has not gone the way she thought it would. Rey finds herself staring at them, mouth slightly agape, the only words running through her mind something like “kiss Ben Solo, whaaaa-?” Not exactly articulate. “I can’t- That’s not how- There’s more to it than-” 

But children are not beholden to logic or reason, as Iofe demonstrates by taking her brush back in hand and pounding it on the table in a steady rhythm. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” 

Lanie takes up the chant and the drumming beat. “Kiss! Kiss!” The two girls are perfectly in unison, and Rey can feel heat creeping up her face. 

She is saved by the ringing of the doorbell. “Pizza’s here!” she says, getting abruptly to her feet. She moves so fast her chair scrapes horrendously over the wood, and she mentally apologizes for the scuff marks she’s probably left in her wake. “No more chanting, or I’ll have to kiss the pizza man.” 

The mention of pizza works like a charm. The girls’ chant turns into a cheer as Rey goes to open the door. 

Just then, Rey really  _ could  _ kiss the pizza man. He’s saved her from an unbelievably awkward situation; she can only hope that they’ll have forgotten all about kissing by the time she supplies them with over-greasy cheese and pepperoni. To her horror, the door opens not onto a pasty-faced teenager with a part-time job but on Ben himself, one hand poised to ring the doorbell again, the other holding his watch aloft. Rey freezes in the doorway.  _ Kiss kiss kiss-  _ “This is not my fault,” she squeaks. 

Ben’s brow furrows. He opens his mouth, presumably to ask what exactly isn’t her fault, when the kids catch sight of who’s really at the door. 

“Aww,” Iofe says with a pout. “It’s not pizza; it’s just dad.” 

“Just dad?” Ben echoes, one hand over his heart in mock offense.

“Daddy!” Lanie is up and running towards him as soon as she sees who it is. She latches onto his leg and gazes up at him with pure adoration. “You have to kiss Miss Rey!” 

Ben, who had been stroking his hand over Lanie’s hair, stills. “Kiss Miss Rey?” he echoes again. 

“That is the part that’s not my fault,” Rey says quickly. He gives her the most baffled look, and she cringes. “I really… don’t have an explanation.” She would love it, in fact, if someone could explain that evening’s sequence of events to her. 

“Okay.” Ben’s eyes slowly (reluctantly?) pull away from Rey’s face to take in his daughters. “Sorry I was late. It’s probably about time for us to be getting home.” 

Instantly, the two protest. “But we haven’t even had pizza yet,” pouts Iofe. 

“I want pepperoni,” Lanie declares. “Please can we stay?” She tightens her hold on his leg and widens her eyes imploringly. 

Rey gets the distinct sense that Ben is about to protest again, so she jumps to their rescue. They can be hellions, but even hellions deserve pizza every once in a while. “You can stay, if you want.” She knows she sounds uncomfortable and can only hope she isn’t blushing as obviously as she thinks she is. “It’s on its way, and I really don’t need to eat a whole pizza by myself.” 

For a long moment, Ben just stares at her. “All right. But after pizza, we’re going home.” 

Lanie and Iofe whoop loudly, and Lanie finally returns to the table to reclaim her seat. 

“What’s all this about kissing?” Ben speaks out of the corner of his mouth, tone pitched so low the girls couldn’t possibly hear. 

“You may want to keep an eye on what your kids are watching,” Rey shoots back. “They have some very solid ideas about relationships.” The look Ben gives her would be priceless if she wasn’t so rattled by the thought still bouncing around her head:  _ Kiss Ben Solo.  _ He looks as scandalized as if he’d just watched an entire episode of TMZ featuring his father’s sex life. Clearing her throat, Rey mutters, “I’m going to make sure they don’t get paint everywhere.” She can feel Ben’s eyes drilling into her as she walks back over to the table. Every step of the way. 

The next time the doorbell rings, it really is the pizza man. Ben insists on paying, despite Rey’s initial protests. “I owe you for the Chinese, and, besides, you only ordered this because I was late. Let me handle it.” 

With a half-hearted grumble, Rey subsides. 

“Lanie, Iofe! Plates, silverware, get things ready,” Ben says as he hands the delivery boy his credit card. The kids scramble into the kitchen to fetch things.

Rey accepts the box as Ben signs the receipt, the smell of cheese and pepperoni making her mouth water. 

The pizza man accepts the receipt back with a slight smile. “Cute kids you got there,” he says, addressing the both of them.  

“Oh,” Rey says, “they’re not-” 

But Ben cuts her off with a simple “Thanks” before he shuts the door practically in the delivery boy’s face. 

Rey stares at him, but he only shrugs. 

“What?” he asks, tucking his wallet back in his pocket. “He’s a delivery guy, Rey. He doesn’t need to know our life story.” He holds his hand out for the box. 

This time, it’s Rey’s turn to watch as he joins his kids at the table, blinking and steadfastly ignoring the voice in her head that’s still whispering about kisses. 

-

Most of the pizza has been devoured and Lanie’s eyelids are beginning to droop by the time Ben firmly calls it a night. “We’ve wasted enough of Miss Rey’s time tonight,” he says over the sounds of Iofe’s protests. “We’re heading out.” 

Lanie picks her head up from where it’s resting on Ben’s shoulder. She’s been cradled in his arms for the past few minutes, and Rey had thought she was already asleep. “But you haven’t kissed Miss Rey yet,” she mumbles. 

Rey goes stock-still, and Ben doesn’t look much better, casting her an apologetic look and shifting Lanie’s weight on his hip. 

“Lanie, sweetie,” he says, voice low. “Daddy can’t just kiss girls without permission. Okay? That would be wrong.” 

Both Lanie and Iofe turn to pin Rey in their expectant gazes. 

She’s like a deer in headlights. “Uh…” Her eyes lock on Ben, or, more specifically, on his lips. They’re such a prominent feature. How has she never noticed them before? Are they soft? They look like they’d be soft. She could find out. “It’s okay.” Her voice doesn’t sound like her voice, thin and watery. “I mean, you can kiss me. Permission granted.” 

Something flashes over his face -- despair? resignation? bewilderment? -- but it’s gone as soon as it comes. He sets Lanie down and unwraps himself from her clinging limbs before approaching Rey, expression unreadable. 

Rey is sure hers is all too damning. She gazes up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes; it hadn’t occurred to her that he might actually take her up on the offer. Her heart beats a tattoo against her ribcage with every step he takes forward. It doesn’t take many before he’s standing in front of her and taking her face in his hands. Her heart’s stopped now, it and her breath held in anticipation. 

He leans in -- and presses his lips to her forehead. He lingers there for a second, then pulls back and lets his hands fall away. 

Rey’s heart restarts with a lurch, and she tries to tell herself she’s not disappointed. Had she really expected him to kiss her? Had she really  _ wanted  _ him to? 

“There,” Ben says, turning to face Lanie and Iofe. 

They look even more disillusioned than Rey. “Daaaaad.” Iofe makes a show of rolling her eyes. “You know that’s not what we meant.” 

“Well, it’s all the kissing I’m doing tonight,” Ben says, his tone putting an end to the matter. “Now, come on. Time to head out.” He starts herding them towards the door, and the girls start calling their goodbyes. 

“Goodnight, Miss Rey! Thank you for the pizza,” Lanie says with a sleepy wave. She has her hand curled in one of Ben’s, her head resting against his side as they walk. 

Iofe gives her another one of those sly smiles. “Don’t worry. We’ll make him give you a real kiss next time.” 

Rey’s cheeks flush with color, and a choked noise claws its way out of her throat. 

“Iofe,” Ben says, and she doesn’t think she’s ever heard him sound so stern, not even when they’d first met. “That’s enough.” Once he’s got them out the door, he turns back and grimaces, not quite able to meet Rey’s eyes. He opens his mouth and closes it without saying anything. Opens it again. 

That taut-nerve anticipation is back, and Rey finds that she’s holding her breath waiting to see what he’ll say. 

“Well… goodnight.” He nods as if satisfied with himself and withdraws before she has the chance to respond. 

Rey is left staring at the closed door with one question ringing in the silence he leaves behind.  _ What the hell just happened?  _

-

_ She paints the wall with broad, sweeping strokes, covering whole rooms in one go. Landscapes spin out from beneath her brush in cascades of color. Then, suddenly, there are hands on her hips, hot around her waist. She knows immediately who they belong to.  _

_ His name is on her lips even as she leans into him, her back to his chest. “Ben.” It is a breath, really more of a sigh, and her eyes close in bliss.  _

_ His mouth is on her neck, at the corner of her jaw, along the shell of her ear.  _

_ She turns so they can kiss properly. She remembers thinking earlier that they’d looked soft; they’re practically pillowesque. With a quiet moan, she winds her arms around his neck and presses herself closer… closer…  _

Rey’s eyes fly open into the semi-dark of early morning. Her phone alarm is going off, and, though she doesn’t remember setting it, she’s glad she did because that dream did not need to continue. She flicks it off, drops her phone back on her bed, and closes her eyes again with a sigh. It’s a bad idea, closing her eyes. As soon as she does, she starts to drift back off. Her bed is warm. The pillows are soft. Like Ben’s lips had been in her dream. 

For the second time in as many minutes, her eyes fly open. This time, she flings her arm over her face and lets out a long, slow groan. Oh, hell. She’s in trouble.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i hope y'all want be too disappointed that rey didn't end up going to that thanksgiving dinner after all, but i tried to make up for it at least a little bit ;)


End file.
